




Class 

Book >\— 


CoffliglitN 0 - N 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 


N 



' . 










I 








. 



































■ 












* - 

' 









































' 





























I ! 









































































































































































































































































hm 






















































































yyi 




























































































































■ 


































































































































































































































































* 




























. 






















































































MARTY LENDS A HAND 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS 
ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 


MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

TORONTO 




































































MARTY 




MARTY LENDS A HAND 


BY 

HAROLD S. LATHAM 

Author of “Under (Orders, ” etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

E. C. CASWELL 


jQeto gorfe 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

1919 


All rights reserved 


Copyright, 1919, 

By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 


up and electrotyped. Published, October, 1919 



NuV -*6 1319 


©CI.A536452 


'Vtn l 


TO MY BROTHER 
WILLIAM 

AND 

FOUR BOYS 

L. N. F. 

C. S. K. 

P. J. M. 

K. W. P. 










CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Marty Assumes a New Role .... i 
II The Old Copper Mine io 

III A Rehearsal and a Surprise .... 24 

IV A Family Council 35 

V “ Pegleg ” is Introduced 42 

VI A Bargain is Sealed 53 

VII A Little Excitement at the Mine . . 63 

VIII To the Rescue! 72 

IX Away with the Ruins! 83 

X Under Suspicion 95 

XI Hen Investigates 106 

XII Settling the Account with Pegleg . .115 

XIII Marty Goes on a Journey 122 

XIV An Interview with Gibbins .... 133 

XV Of Eeling — and Other Things . . . 146 

XVI A Ride Through the Night . . . .155 

XVII “Mushroom Day — Mushroom Day!” . 165 

XVIII Lanier Makes an Offer 175 

XIX The Mushroom Ball 184 


* 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Marty Frontispiece 

FACING 

. PAGE 

This is genuine,” Marty insisted 50*^ 

He sniffed again and then looked up at the strangely 

appareled figure before him 82 ^ 


“ If she is here, I want her,” the boy replied . . .140 



MARTY LENDS A HAND 


CHAPTER I 

MARTY ASSUMES A NEW ROLE 

T HERE was an air of hushed expectancy in the 
room as Mr. Tripper, the head of the English 
department, mounted the platform and faced the 
eighty-seven pupils of the sophomore class of West- 
vale High, their friends and relatives. He leaned 
genially over the table toward the eager, upturned 
faces, consulted a slip of paper which he held in his 
hand, looked about the auditorium again, smiled, and 
looked back at his memorandum. 

The annual oratorical contest of the sophomores 
was just over. Mr. Tripper was the chairman of 
the board of judges and he was about to announce 
the names of the prize winners. 

The “ Oratoricals ” as they were popularly called, 
were of considerable importance, marking as they 
did the first step to the sophomore class play. Only 
those who entered the contest could expect to have 
parts in the play, and it was almost tradition that to 
those who carried off the honors should go the lead- 
ing roles. 


2 


Marty Lends a Hand 

The contest this year had been an unusually spir- 
ited one. There had been numerous preliminaries 
and semifinals. The poor speakers had been grad- 
ually eliminated; the dozen competitors of the even- 
ing had all shown marked ability and the results of 
long training and study. 

With tantalizing prolixity, Mr. Tripper began: 

“ I am glad to welcome here this evening the 
friends of the sophomore class of Westvale High 
and the class itself. If you have enjoyed, as I have, 
the work of the young men and the young women who 
have stood upon this platform, you must feel that 
your time has been well spent. And this reminds me 
o*f a story — ” 

Mr. Tripper glanced up in feigned surprise at the 
ripple of laughter which had run through his au- 
dience. His manner plainly said, “ Why, what’s the 
matter? ” Then he assumed an expression of sud- 
den understanding. 

“Oh! You aren’t interested in stories? You 
would like to know the names that I have on this 
paper. Is that it?” 

Again, good-natured laughter. 

“ Well, let me see — I think I will tell you with- 
out any stories or further details — ” A patter of 
applause interrupted him. “ Ah ! That is what you 
would like. Very well.” He adjusted his glasses 
deliberately. 

“ I have the honor to make the following unani- 


3 


Marty Assumes a New Role 

mous report of the committee. The first prize, 
among the young ladies, goes to Miss Wilda Bennett 
for her excellent rendition of ‘ On the Rio Grande ’ ; 
the second to Miss Alice Fielding for ‘ Little Or- 
phant Annie.’ Among the boys, the first prize win- 
ner is Martin Kelly for ‘ Pompeii,’ the second, Henry 
Elliott for his selection from ‘ The Rivals.’ ” 

Noisy applause which reached a climax in a rous- 
ing cheer for the successful contestants followed the 
announcement and brought the evening’s exercises to 
a close. 

Martin Kelly was standing near the back of the 
room and smiling a broad, happy smile, genuinely 
pleased at his success and caring not at all who knew 
it. 

Larry Reed was one of the first to reach Martin’s 
side. 

“ Congratulations, old man. I’m awfully glad! ” 
He thumped him vigorously on the back. “ You 
deserved it. We all had you down for first after 
we’d heard you, but who’d ever have thought of 
Martin Kelly as an elocutionist?” 

“ Well, don’t think of him as one now, for good- 
ness’ sake. I just went into this because I wanted 
to be in the play. They have such bully times in the 
plays, you know. But ask Doc Goddard how much 
of an elocutionist I am. He drilled that piece into 
me. It wasn’t Martin Kelly speaking, it was old 
Doc Goddard.” 


4 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Well, you’re a good pupil, anyway. If I’d been 
as good, I think maybe I would have got the first 
prize instead of you, for I had a better selection, 
but I didn’t follow all Goddard’s advice. Con- 
gratulations, anyhow.” Hen Elliott held out his 
hand as he spoke. 

“ Oh, if I only had had a bunch of roses to throw 
at you. You would have looked so sweet making 
a bow and holding them in your hands — or lilies of 
the valley would have been better,” Bert Simmons 
chimed in. “ Next time we’ll come prepared.” 

“ With cabbages and carrots, I suppose,” Martin 
completed the sentence. 

“ You bet we’ll be ready for you when you play 
that leading role in the sophomore play. Oh, you 
matinee idol! ” Bert jabbed him in the ribs. 

His face flushed with excitement, his bushy black 
hair somewhat tousled by the maulings of his friends, 
his eyes bright and his smile flashing to the right and 
to the left, Martin did indeed suggest the hero of a 
play at the climax of action. No one noticed that 
his clothes were old or that his shoes were patched. 

“ We never think about such things with Marty,” 
Wilda Bennett had once said to her mother, who 
had made some remark about Marty’s looking poor. 
“ There is something about him that makes you for- 
get what he has on.” 

“But he is poor, isn’t he?” Mrs. Bennett had 
persisted. 


5 


Marty Assumes a New Role 

“ Oh, I suppose so. There are such an awful lot 
of Kellys, you know. Martin’s the oldest; then 
there’s Bobby and Ruth and Helen and Betsey — 
she’s the youngest. I guess Mr. Kelly doesn’t earn 
much money. They live in that little house on Grove 
Street down under the hill and he works in the fac- 
tory. But there isn’t any more popular boy in our 
class than Marty and I think he’ll be junior presi- 
dent.” 

But, had you asked Marty, he would have told 
you that such an idea was preposterous! The only 
dream .that he had was of the sophomore play, with 
himself the deep-dyed villain or dashing hero of it. 
He had been a spectator of the sophomore plays for 
several years and had envied those who had played 
in them. Elaborately presented in the Westvale 
Theater, with all the professional trappings from 
make-up to stage settings, it was indeed something to 
be anticipated. 

That night, in the house unde;* the hill, Martin 
told his family of the alluring prospect. Mrs. Kelly, 
tired as usual from the exacting labors of running a 
houseful of little Kellys, brightened at the story of 
her son’s success. 

“ The next time, mother,” Martin said, “ you’ve 
got to come and see me yourself. That’ll be the 
play, in about two months, I think. You shall have 
a front-row seat — and dad too.” 

“ Of course we’ll go, dear; we’d have liked to to- 


6 Marty Lends a Hand 

night, but your father had to work overtime and I 
couldn’t leave the children.” 

“ You’ll have to leave them when the play comes 
off, or bring them. We have our meeting to select 
the cast to-morrow.” He rose and impetuously 
flung his arms upward. “ I can hardly wait till the 
time comes.” 

The next day at school dragged dismally. Study 
hours had never seemed so long, recitation hours 
never so tiresome — but at last three o’clock came. 

Those who had taken part in the “ Oratoricals ” 
lost no time in assembling in Dr. Goddard’s office. 

Dr. Goddard looked the young people over with 
an appraising eye. “ Young ladies and gentlemen,” 
he began abruptly, “ we are going to attempt an 
ambitious production this year — Goldsmith’s ‘ She 
Stoops to Conquer.’ You must all understand that 
this means work, real work, hard work. If there 
are any who are not ready for that, now’s the time 
to say so.” 

He paused, but no one spoke. “Very well. I 
shall assume that I may put you to any test. There 
is nothing compulsory about the sophomore play, 
but once you do take a part you have to agree to be 
regular and conscientious in your work, just as if it 
were one of your school studies. 

“ Now, then, for the assignments. I have de- 
cided to give the hero part to Bert Simmons. Sim- 
mons didn’t get into the 4 Finals ’ in the oratorical 


7 


Marty Assumes a New Role 

contest, to be sure, but I think it was partly the fault 
of his selection. His work in the preliminaries leads 
me to believe that he can do the part of Marlowe 
well. Miss Bennett will try Kate Hardcastle. 
Martin Kelly will take Tony Lumpkin. It’s a com- 
edy role of splendid opportunity.” 

The other parts were then given out and the play 
was read through once, after which the cast was dis- 
missed. 

Martin was delighted with the role that had been 
assigned to him. All the way home he chuckled 
over its possibilities, and figured out bits of “ busi- 
ness ” which might be introduced. “ If I can’t 
make them laugh with those lines, either I am hope- 
less or they are,” he thought. “ ’Tis some chance 
for you, Martin Kelly.” 

When he reached the top of the hill and his home 
came into view in the hollow below, he stopped sud- 
denly, startled at the sight that greeted his eyes. In 
front of his house was an ambulance from which 
two or three men were removing a stretcher. In a 
sort of daze he watched them carry it through the 
crowd that had gathered, up the front steps and into 
the house. He stood still for a moment, and then, 
breathing quickly, he ran headlong down the hill. 

He stopped to make no inquiries of the fright- 
ened neighbors in the dooryard — though from the 
few whispered sentences that reached his ears he 
learned that there had been an explosion at the 


8 Marty Lends a Hand 

factory and that his father was among those in- 
jured. 

In the front room he found his mother, white- 
faced and looking more fragile than ever. She 
caught him to her. “ Martin, Martin,” she sobbed 
softly, “ your father — ” 

“Is he — ? Tell me, mother.” 

“ No,” his mother breathed, “ he is still living. 
God grant he may. They’re working over him now. 
But, oh, Martin, he’s horribly — horribly hurt.” 
Great sobs shook the little woman. 

Martin tried to comfort her. “ Perhaps it will 
not be as bad as you think.” He led her to a couch 
and suggested that she lie down. A neighbor came 
and offered to stay with her while Martin went to 
see if there was anything he could do. 

The boy hardly recognized this as his home. 
Strangers were hurrying in and out, kind neighbors 
and friends who wanted to do everything they could 
to make it easier for the Kellys in their trouble. 
One of them bundled the children off to her home. 
Others answered the numerous calls of the doctor 
or busied themselves in straightening up the rooms 
which confusion had swept into wild disorder. 

There flashed through Marty’s mind a picture of 
his home-coming as he had thought it would be that 
night — he had planned to give impersonations of 
Tony Lumpkin before an amused father and mother. 


9 


Marty Assumes a New Role 

He quickly put the thought out of his mind and set 
himself to the task that was before him. He was 
the man of the house as long as his father was ill. 
He would prove his right to the title. 


CHAPTER II 

THE OLD COPPER MINE 

U TT’S too awful for words. I simply can’t talk 

JL about it.” Wilda Bennett turned away to 
hide her emotion. 

“ They say,” Alice Fielding began, “ that he’ll 
never be able to do heavy work again and that it’ll 
be weeks and weeks before he can do anything. His 
whole left side is paralyzed ... I wonder what the 
Kellys will do.” 

Several sophomores had gathered at the back of 
the classroom and were discussing, in the few min- 
utes that remained before school opened, the fac- 
tory explosion of the day before. They were all 
Marty’s friends and they were suffering with him in 
the affliction that had come upon his family. 

“ Do you think Marty’ll come back to school? ” 
Bert Simmons asked. 

“ Oh, not to-day,” Alice replied. 

“ I didn’t mean to-day,” Bert protested. “ I 
wouldn’t be surprised if he had to leave altogether 
and go to work.” 

“Wouldn’t that be a pity!” Wilda interjected. 
“ He counts so much on school, so much more than 


10 


The Old Copper Mine n 

the rest of us do. And then, the play, what will we 
do without him in the play? ” 

Their speculation on this subject was cut short by 
the five-minute bell, the signal for all pupils to be 
at their desks. 

“ It simply can’t be. Marty’ll have to come 
back,” Wilda concluded, her eyes flashing. 

But down in the little house under the hill, it 
looked very much indeed as though Marty’s school 
days were over. The boy tried not to see this side 
of it, but, despite the best of efforts, thoughts of what 
he seemed likely to miss kept recurring to him. 

“ I am selfish, selfish, selfish ! ” he said to him- 
self. “ I’m just going to put school and all the rest 
of it out of my mind. It’s only right that I should.” 
But it was easier said, or thought, than done. 

Mr. Kelly’s income had been a meager one. Only 
by the practice of the greatest economy had it been 
made to cover the essentials of life, and there was 
nothing now upon which to fall back. To be sure, 
as the factory’s representative explained to Mrs. 
Kelly, there was an insurance that would be coming 
to her, but it would be some weeks at best before she 
could count on it, and then it would be only a trifle. 

Mother and son talked the situation over that 
second day in detail. Mr. Kelly w’as resting more 
comfortably. The doctors had assured them that 
his life would be spared and his family found it pos- 


12 


Marty Lends a Hand 

sible to gather its thoughts and consider the prac- 
tical aspects of the situation. 

“ Well,” Marty said, and the smile on his lips 
belied the load on his heart, “ I think I’ll get a job 
at the plant.” 

“ Not that , Marty, not that ! After this, anything 
but that.” 

“ A thing like this won’t happen again for years 
and years. It never does, and you know a job there 
would pay much better than anything else I could get. 
I could probably earn fifteen a week at the start.” 

“ Anything but that,” his mother reiterated, “ any- 
thing but that.” 

“ It doesn’t have to be decided to-day, anyway. 
I’ll have a look around and see what there is.” 
Marty smiled again, kissed his mother, and left the 
room. 

But the mother saw through his feigned light- 
heartedness. She knew of the utter disappointment 
that was his, and, when he had gone out, she cried 
again, not for the human wreck upstairs, but for the 
youthful ambition that had been blighted. 

Late that afternoon Marty was sitting on the front 
steps vainly trying to think out a plan of action, 
when Henry Elliott came up the walk to him. 

“ Hello, Marty! How goes it? ” he sang out. 

“ Father’s much easier, thanks.” 

“Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad! Then you’ll 
be coming back to school.” 


The Old Copper Mine 13 

“ I don’t think so, Hen. Dad’ll never be able to 
work much. I guess it’s up to me to see what I 
can do.” 

“ Gee! I envy you; I’m so sick of school! I 
wish I had the chance to go into business.” 

“ I’ll sell you my chance for just about three 
cents,” Marty began; then, “ No I won’t either, be- 
cause, then, what would I do? I’ve got to like it — 
that’s all!” 

“ Aw — you’ll like it all righto ! Why don’t you 
go in for banking or the Stock Exchange? That’s 
what I’m going to be — a broker, a bull or a bear 
down in Wall Street. Corner all sorts of things 
and do stunts with money. Great Caesar ! School 
hasn’t anything like that in it.” 

“ No,” Marty admitted. “ I don’t know as it 
has — ” 

“ What I really came down here for,” Hen ex- 
plained, “ was to bring you a message.” 

“ A message ? ” 

“ Yes, let’s see. Wilda Bennett told me to say it 
exactly so. She made me repeat it to her. Don’t 
interrupt me after I get started or I’ll have to begin 
it all over.” 

“ Are you kidding me? ” 

“No! Honest to goodness ! This is what I was 
to say: 

“ ‘ The cast of the school play extends its sym- 
pathies to Marty ’ — no, I was to say, Mr. Martin 


14 Marty Lends a Hand 

— ' to Mr. Martin Kelly and regrets that he was 
prevented from being present at the first rehearsal. 
There are rumors that Mr. Kelly is not to rejoin his 
classmates. Should this be the case, the cast would 
still wish him to keep the part of Tony Lumpkin in 
“ She Stoops to Conquer” said wish being heartily 
indorsed ’ — no, Wilda said ^wdorsed — ' by Dr. 
Goddard / ” 

Hen Elliott drew a long breath. “ There, that’s 
out of my system. I’ve got such a peculiar mind 
that, now that I’ve said it and am done with it, it’ll 
probably be running over in my head all night.” 

“ But I don’t understand. I am to be in the play 
even if I am not in school? ” 

“ Yep.” 

“Why — ” 

“ Now, you needn’t begin to offer objections, be- 
cause it’s all worked out. We are to rehearse even- 
ings and Saturday afternoons and there’ll be no 
reason under the sun why you can’t romp around as 
Tony.” 

“You mean to say that they’ll do that for me? 
Even Dr. Goddard?” 

“ Even Dr. Goddard.” 

“ I’ll do it.” Marty rose and threw back his 
shoulders. “ If you’ve friends like that, what can’t 
you do? ” 

“ If my eyes deceive me not,” Hen Elliott inter- 


The Old Copper Mine 15 

rupted, looking up the street, “ here comes Larry 
Reed. ,, 

“ I guess your eyes don’t deceive you, then,” 
Marty remarked. “ He was here last night, and 
this morning before he went to work, and now again, 
anxious to help. I told him if he came to-night I’d 
let him wash the dishes and I guess he’s taken me at 
my word and has come to do that.” 

“ ’Lo, Larry!” Hen called out. “Have you 
come to wash the dishes? Well, they’re all done. 
Just finished ’em.” 

“ Yes, you have,” Larry replied as he came up 
the steps. “ Any old time you wash dishes, Hen 
Elliott — ” Then soberly to Marty, “How’s the 
father? ” 

“ Better,” Marty replied. “ He’s conscious now, 
and recognizes us.” 

“That’s fine. Anything I can do?” 

“ No, I guess not, unless you want to take a walk 
with me and possibly Hen. I’ve been sort of shut 
up all day and thought I’d like to get out into the 
air. Let’s stroll up the mine road.” 

It was a mid-April afternoon. Already there 
was promise of the summer to come. The trees 
wore a delicate tracery of green; the grass was 
springing into new life. There was light and love 
and laughter in the air. The boys talked as they 
walked of bright things, for Larry, who guided the 


16 Marty Lends a Hand 

conversation, wanted to get Marty away from his 
own worries and problems for a time. 

Fifteen or twenty minutes’ walk brought them be- 
yond the outskirts of Westvale into a region known 
as the “ Bluffs ” — from the sharp mounds of dirt 
and rock that rose precipitously out of the swamps 
that stretched beyond them for miles and miles. 

Here was located the old copper mine, the scene 
of a gigantic swindle. A trace of the mineral found 
in the hills had been all that a group of unscrupulous 
promoters had required to beguile a credulous public. 
Thousands upon thousands of dollars had been sunk 
in a venture in which there was never at any time any 
prospect of profit, except for the men in whose brains 
the nefarious scheme had originated. Elaborate 
buildings had been erected, expensive equipment in- 
stalled; but after a few years of trial, the hopeless- 
ness of it all was seen and the project had been aban- 
doned. 

This was a quarter of a century or more back; but 
the mine still stood a monument to folly and greed. 

“ I have often thought,” Larry remarked, as the 
three boys came out upon a prominence a hundred 
feet or more from the mine buildings, “ what a 
splendid setting for a moving picture show this 
would be.” 

It was indeed a place for high adventure. 

To their left rose the tower of the mine — a great 
steeple of yellow brick, piercing the blue for two 


The Old Copper Mine 17 

hundred feet; at its base several rambling buildings 
fallen into decay. Directly in front the earth 
dropped straight down for a hundred feet to the 
salt marshes — a plateau of waving green things 
which went on and on until it seemed to meet with 
the line of big buildings of the metropolis seven 
miles away and across the river. The craggy mine 
hill was the first break in the green stretch of mead- 
ows; it almost seemed to rise as a challenge to the 
distant sky line of brick and mortar. 

The mine property had long been untenanted, ex- 
cept for a one-legged caretaker known as Pegleg 
Jake — who was unpopular with the boys of the 
neighborhood because he could see no reason why 
they should want to visit the mine. The boys, on 
the other hand, could see no reason for Jake’s being 
there, inasmuch as there certainly wasn’t anything 
they could carry away with them except possibly 
pocketsful of greenish rock in which they weren’t at 
all interested. 

“ This is a favorite view of mine. I think these 
meadows are beautiful.” It was Larry who spoke. 
“ See ! There’s a train coming across them, a vital 
connection between two mainlands — for ’tis little 
more than a sea down there, a beautiful green sea.” 

“ Beautiful,” Hen Elliott agreed, “ if you don’t 
know what come up out of it. Wow! Mosquitoes, 
nice, pleasant, agreeable odors, and goodness knows 
what else.” 


1 8 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Oh, why be so practical? I say it’s a fascinat- 
ing view.” 

“Have your own way, have your own way! 
Only I wish a mosquito would light on the back of 
your neck right this very minute.” 

“ If it did, I’d kill it and still like the view, 
see? ” 

Larry’s eyes searched the horizon soberly. He 
was older than either of the others by several years 
and perhaps of a more thoughtful temperament. 
Yet despite the difference of age and nature and the 
fact that he went to “ business ” and might be sup- 
posed to have other interests, Larry was exceedingly 
popular with the boys of Martin’s class. Indeed he 
was their leader and adviser, their much sought- 
after confidant and friend. 

“ I wonder where old Pegleg is. Seems to me 
we’ve crossed the forbidden line,” Martin observed. 
“ You don’t usually get as close to the mine as this 
before he’s out after you. Let’s see if we can’t get 
a little closer.” 

Slowly they made their way over the rough 
ground right up to the main entrance, a huge door- 
way in the side of the hill. 

“ Reminds me of the tunnels we used to build in 
the sand on the beach,” Marty said, regarding the 
opening in the earth curiously. “ Dare you to go 
in.” 

“ I don’t know about it,” Larry speculated. 


19 


The Old Copper Mine 

“ There have been several cave-ins up here lately. 
The timbers that keep the dirt and rocks back are 
pretty rotten.” 

“ This looks sound right here over this entrance,” 
Hen said. “ I’m going to have a look.” 

He stepped through the opening into what had 
been the beginning of the main tunnel of the mine. 
Larry and Marty followed. 

They had advanced only about a dozen feet when 
it became so dark that they could go no farther. 
The tunnel appeared to have opened up into wider 
spaces — the darkness now seem unconfined, to go 
on and up and back without containing walls. 

“ Gee, I’m so skeered, n Hen Elliott laughed 
nervously. 

“ Me, too, me, too,” Martin answered from some- 
where out of sight. “ Let’s get out. I never got 
this far before and I’m just as well satisfied to go no 
farther. If we only had a lantern.” 

They turned and retraced their steps. Larry was 
the last to emerge into the light. 

“What ever do you think you’ve got there?” 
Marty asked, pointing to a giant toadstool which 
Larry held in his hand. 

“ That’s what I intend to find out,” came Larry’s 
somewhat shaky reply. “ I put out my hand, feel- 
ing my way around in there, and came into contact 
with this cold, slimy, creepy thing, and somehow I 
couldn’t let go.” 


20 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“Is it a mushroom?” Hen Elliott asked. 
“ There’s a whole meal in it, if it is.” 

“ Far be it from me to say, but I think the safest 
thing to do with it is to chuck it over into our green 
sea,” and he flung it from him down into the meadow 
lands. 

Just as they were starting to leave the mine prop- 
erty, Marty stopped them with an exclamation. 
“Hark! What’s that?” 

They listened, and in a moment the sound came 
again — unmistakably the cry of something in dis- 
tress. 

“ If it’s in that mine it will cry for all of me,” 
Hen spoke with emphasis. 

“ It isn’t in the mine, it’s right over there.” 
Marty started quickly in the direction from which 
the sounds had issued and came suddenly upon a pit 
four or five feet wide and thirty-five or forty feet 
deep. Peering down into it, he saw at the bottom a 
straggly, yellow dog, weakly sitting on his haunches 
and periodically raising howls of a distinctly minor 
chord. Larry and Hen came up. 

“ It’s a dog,” Marty explained. “ The poor lit- 
tle rascal’s got down there and he can’t get out.” 

“Humph! What you going to do about it?” 
Hen grunted. “ Might as well leave him. Homely 
little brute.” 

“ Leave him ! I should say not. I’m going 
down after him, if you fellows’ll help me.” 


21 


The Old Copper Mine 

“ Marty, don’t be an idiot! ” Hen cried. “ You 
can’t get down there. You’ll get hurt. We can 
tell the police on our way home, and they can come 
and shoot the little beggar. Come on.” 

“ No,” decidedly, “ I’m going to try it.” 

It was an old, open mine shaft which time and nu- 
merous cave-ins had pretty nearly filled in. The 
sides were fairly steep, but there were numerous 
projections by which a careful climber could make 
his way up or down. 

“ It’s an outrage,” Larry snapped, “ to have traps 
like this open. They ought to be closed up. 
There’s another over there much worse than this. 
I’m glad the dog chose this one. Well, go to it, 
Marty — we’ll stay up here to help you if you 
need it.” 

Marty gave an encouraging whistle to the dog 
below — answered by a pitiful whimper — and 
started downward, reaching the bottom in safety. 

“ Why, the poor little creature is almost starved 
— he’s too weak to stand. Just look at him lick my 
hand,” Marty called to his friends. He picked the 
dog up and began the climb back. This was 
more difficult than his trip down had been, but he 
made it, little by little, and soon was above ground 
again. 

“ Now you’ve got him, what are you going to do 
with him?” Hen Elliott inquired sarcastically. 

Martin shrugged his shoulders. “ Suppose I’ll 


22 


Marty Lends a Hand 

have to take him home for the night anyway. Then 
we can turn him over to the S. P. C. A.” 

Without further ado they started for home, Marty 
carrying the dog, whose great brown eyes, shining 
with love and appreciation, made up in no small 
measure for the scrawny appearance of his body. 

“ That isn’t a dog,” Hen snorted derisively, 
“ that’s just a yellow cur.” 

They made most of the return journey in silence. 
When they got back to Westvale’s sidewalks and 
pavements, Larry spoke. 

“ Do you know, I’ve been thinking about that 
toadstool — I wonder why that old mine couldn’t 
be used to raise mushrooms in on a large scale the 
way they do in the subterranean caves in Paris. I 
don’t know much about mushrooms and the way they 
grow, but if darkness helps, believe me, you ought 
to be able to get especially luxuriant crops up there.” 

“ Say,” Hen Elliott began after a moment’s re- 
flection, “ that’s a big idea. That’s a mushroom cel- 
lar all built and ready for occupancy.” 

“ You’ve got the business instinct,” Larry replied, 
“ and if it looks good to you, it ought to be good. 
We’ll turn the idea over to our young friend Marty 
here, who’s looking for a means of livelihood just at 
present. Marty, get busy and grow mushrooms in 
the copper mine ! ” 

“ I wonder — if one could — ” Marty said skep- 
tically. “ It seems a little strange — ” 


23 


The Old Copper Mine 

“ May be strange,” Larry answered, “ but for- 
tunes have been made in stranger ways. Think it 
over.” 

“ I’ll do that all right.” The trio stopped in 
front of Marty’s home. u I don’t see why you 
couldn’t — ” 

“ Nor I,” Larry agreed. “ But then, again, it 
may be one of my wild fancies. You know I’ve 
often wondered why one couldn’t mow the salt 
meadows and get enough fodder for all the cattle in 
Christendom. So you see, I’m not responsible. 
Well, ta, ta.” And with a cheery nod Larry was 
off, Hen with him. 

Marty turned and went slowly up the walk to his 
front door. He paused and then went around to 
the back of the house. 

“ They’ve got enough troubles in there without a 
sick dog,” he said half aloud to the shivering crea- 
ture in his arms. “ We’ll fix you up in the cellar 
for to-night.” 


CHAPTER III 


A REHEARSAL AND A SURPRISE 
OT too fast, Mr. Kelly, not too fast. You 



know Tony is supposed to be a great lum- 


bering sort of a fellow whose mind is as slow as his 
feet, ( and in the present situation you are trying to be 
funny, so you must take it easily. Remember, the 
gentlemen are lost and are inquiring their way, and 
as Tony Lumpkin you are giving them the most ex- 
plicit directions. Now, then, take the lines again.” 

Dr. Goddard sat back and watched the effect of 
his words as Martin began: 

“ ‘ Why, gentlemen, if you know neither th'e road 
you are going, nor where you are, nor the road you 
came, the first thing I have to inform you is, that 
you have lost your way.’ ” 

“ Ah ! That’s much better. Now, then, keep 
that spirit up throughout the entire scene. Tony is 
a clown, so be a clown. Let’s hear you read that 
passage where the directions get rather complicated 
for our poor travelers, beginning on the next page 
with ‘ Then, keeping to the right.’ ” 

“ Very well, sir.” Marty turned over the page: 


24 


25 


A Rehearsal and a Surprise 

“ ‘ Then, keeping to the right, you are to go 
sideways till you come upon Crackskull Common; 
there you must look sharp for the track of the 
wheel, and go forward till you come to Farmer 
Murrain’s barn. Coming to the farmer’s barn 
you are to turn to the right and then to the left, 
and then to the right about again, till you find out 
the old mill — ’ ” 

“ All right,” Dr. Goddard said. “ Now we are 
ready for the opening of that scene. Let’s see what 
sort of a roustabout number you young gentlemen 
can give. Remember, this is a tavern. Now, then: 

“ ‘ Hurrea ! hurrea ! hurrea ! bravo ! ’ ” 

It was the first week of the rehearsals and even 
Dr. Goddard, who was not given to optimism, had 
to admit that things were progressing splendidly. 
The sophomores’ production of “ She Stoops to 
Conquer ” promised to be a huge success. 

Marty had not returned to school following the 
accident to his father. His plans, he explained to 
his friends, were still uncertain. 

“ I haven’t connected with a job yet and every- 
thing is still up in the air, but I’m afraid I won’t get 
back to good old Westvale High for some little 
time.” 

In consequence, then, of his changed situation, the 
rehearsals of the play were held evenings at the 
homes of the different members of the cast. This 
night Wilda Bennett was hostess. The chairs and 


26 Marty Lends a Hand 

other pieces of furniture had been removed from 
the parlor into the sitting room. 

“ The parlor,” Wilda had naively explained, “ is 
the stage; back here, beyond this threshold, is the 
audience.” 

Wilda sat now, in company with the other mem- 
bers of the cast who were not rehearsing, near the 
back of the second room, watching the proceedings. 
In the tavern scene, which they were going through, 
only the male members of the cast were required. 

“ I think this is lots more fun than rehearsing in 
that dusty old schoolroom, don’t you? ” Wilda asked 
of no one in particular. 

“ I certainly do,” Bert Simmons agreed heartily. 
“ Especially when it’s at your house.” 

“ Now don’t be trying to do that, Bert. You 
can’t handle the blarney at all. If it had been 
Marty, now, he would have said something really 
gracious.” 

“Marty! Marty! Always Marty. My good- 
ness — ” 

“ Hush ! Hush ! You are making so much noise 
back there,” Dr. Goddard interrupted, “ I don’t 
know which is the stage and which is supposed to be 
the silent auditorium. Quiet, quiet, please ! ” 

For a few minutes a golden silence reigned, and 
then the unemployed members of the “ Actors’ 
Union ” were at it again. 


A Rehearsal and a Surprise 27 

“Say, where is Hen Elliott to-night?” came, 
sotto voce, from Alice Fielding. 

“ Search me,” Bert Simmons replied. “ But wait 
until Dr. Goddard wants to rehearse the Diggory 
scene. There’ll be something doing when he finds 
he isn’t here.” 

“ Oh, I know where he is,” Wilda put in. “ He’s 
got the funniest idea. He’s going to raise mush- 
rooms in the old copper mine and he’s gone to see 
the agent about renting it.” 

“ Some day that boy’s ideas will land him in a 
padded cell or worse. Mushrooms in the copper 
mine ! The idea ! ” Bert snorted. 

The tavern scene came to a riotous conclusion. 
Dr. Goddard tapped his pencil on the arm of his 
chair for attention. “ Young ladies and gentle- 
men, you are doing splendidly. If we can only 
make our friend Marty unbend a little more in his 
clowning, if we can induce Miss Fielding to be more 
coquettish ” — Dr. Goddard held up his hand in 
mock expostulation — “ I know it’s very hard, Alice 
— if Bert will become just a trifle more ardent in his 
love-making, in short, if all of you will get at the 
real significance of your parts, I think I may safely 
say it will be the best sophomore show I have been 
associated with.” 

Praise from Dr. Goddard was praise indeed! 
And the Hardcastles and the Marlowes and the 


28 Marty Lends a Hand 

others of Goldsmith’s polite comedy were greatly 
encouraged. 

There was conversation for a few minutes and 
then the first scene was called again. 

“ We’ll polish and polish this first act before we 
go further,” Dr. Goddard explained. 

They went over the scene carefully, and at its 
conclusion Dr. Goddard announced that that would 
be all for the evening. 

“ Now, I want you all to stay and be my guests 
for a time,” Wilda said, when the rehearsal was 
over. “ There is the piano and there are songs. 
Make yourselves at home while I see about the 
crackers and lemonade that mother promised us. 
She said we couldn’t have anything elaborate because 
it’s war time and the Food Administration is urging 
us to ‘ save food ’ — so it’ll just be a nibble ! ” 

She hurried away to the kitchen, returning soon 
with a trayful of glasses. 

“ Can’t I help you? ” Bert Simmons sprang to her 
side. 

“ No, thank you,” she answered. “ I like to do 
it.” But when Marty offered his services a moment 
later she let him have the tray. 

“ I wonder where Hen Elliott is,” Marty in- 
quired, as, having finished his labors as waiter, he 
sat down on a divan next Wilda. 

“Why, don’t you know? He’s out signing a 


A Rehearsal and a Surprise 29 

contract for the copper mine.” Wilda nibbled 
daintily at a wafer. 

“He — he — is?” Marty ejaculated. 

“ Humph ! Crazy as a loon,” Bert Simmons 
grunted between munches. “ Something about 
mushrooms; thinks they’ll be of copper if they are 
grown in a copper mine.” 

Marty sat his glass down on his plate, a blank 
look in his eyes. 

“ Why, what’s the matter, Marty? You look 
as if you’d seen a ghost,” Wilda jested. “ Look at 
him, Bert.” 

u Don’t wonder,” Bert confided. “ Poor old 
chap, the shock of Hen’s folly is too much for him.” 

Dr. Goddard joined the group. 

“ I’m not so sure it’s folly,” he said. “ I assume 
you are talking of Elliott’s project to raise mush- 
rooms in the copper mine.” 

“ Yes, we are. You don’t think it’s a wild idea? ” 
Bert asked with surprise. 

Dr. Goddard, in addition to being a teacher of 
elocution at Westvale High, was something of a 
naturalist and his word on subjects of this sort was 
not to be taken lightly. 

“ No, indeed, I don’t, and I told Elliott so when 
he came to me for advice. I told him that it was an 
excellent idea, provided he could get the mine at a 
reasonable figure. Goodness knows they ought to 


30 Marty Lends a Hand 

give it to him; it hasn’t been used for anything but 
a home for rats and bats for these fifteen years.” 

“ You certainly have got to hand it to Hen. That 
boy will be worth millions one of these days,” Bert 
remarked. “ Can you beat it? Mushrooms in that 
dirty hole. It takes a crazy man to make money.” 

“ With all due respect to Hen Elliott’s practical 
genius,” Wilda began, “ now that I think about it, it 
seems to me it was Larry Reed who started this 
mushroom proposition. And you were in it, too, 
Marty, I’d forgotten that. I remember now! 
Larry told me about the walk he took with you and 
Mr. Elliott up to the copper mine the time you found 
Spac.” 

“ Spac ! Good gracious, what’s that — a rep- 
tile? ” Bert interrupted. 

“No, no, no — a dog,” Wilda answered impa- 
tiently, and went right on, “ Why, yes, he said he 
turned the idea over to Marty to work out. Isn’t 
that so? ” 

Marty rose abruptly. “ I think he did say some- 
thing about it, but I didn’t pay much attention.” 
He walked away from the group over to the piano 
and pretended to be interested in a harmonized ren- 
dering of “ Sweet Adelaide ” then in progress. 

As he stood there, a black suspicion in his mind, 
the doorbell rang imperiously. Wilda ran to the 
door, opened it, and admitted Hen Elliott. 

“ Good evening, Wilda, I thought maybe I’d get 


A Rehearsal and a Surprise 31 

here in time for a little bit of the show.” Hen spoke 
with the air of one who is sure of his welcome. 

“ I am so glad you came,” Wilda said. “ I am 
anxious to know what success you had.” 

“ ’Sh ! Not a word.” He leaned toward her 
confidentially. “ I got the old geezer to let me have 
the mine for one year for twenty-five dollars. 
Everything’s all fixed up. I had to get my father 
to sign the papers because I’m not of age; he thinks 
it’s probably a fool idea, but he believes in trying 
things out, too. Don’t tell any one about it; it’s 
just an experiment and I don’t want to be made 
ridiculous until I see how it turns out.” 

“ Tell any one,” Wilda echoed. “ I’ve already 
told everybody, even Martin Kelly.” She eyed him 
closely. 

“You have?” He started nervously and then 
laughed it off easily. “ Oh, well, I guess my repu- 
tation can stand it.” 

“ Hen Elliott, are you stealing a march on Martin 
Kelly?” 

“ I don’t understand.” 

“ Yes, you do understand,” Wilda flashed back 
at him. 

“Oh, well, if that’s what you mean, why — he 
did know about the thing, but I thought he wasn’t 
interested.” 

The two had been standing in the hall removed 
from the others. Wilda looked through the por- 


32 Marty Lends a Hand 

tieres, saw Martin, and motioned to him. He came 
quickly, but stopped when he saw Elliott. 

u Good evening,” he said soberly. 

“ Hello, Martin! ” Hen responded. 

“ Mr. Elliott has been to see a representative of 
the copper-mine owners and has secured a lease of 
the mine for a year and I think he wants to tell you 
about it,” Wilda gave a curt little nod and left the 
two together. 

“Why, what’s all this rumpus about?” Hen 
asked. “ You didn’t have a copyright on the mush- 
room proposition, did you? Larry just threw the 
idea out into the air; it belonged to the person who 
grabbed it first. I grabbed it, see? Business is 
business. Besides, you didn’t seem crazy about the 
scheme that night.” 

“ I didn’t know you were so struck with it,” Marty 
retorted. 

“ Well, the more I considered it, the better I liked 
it and I thought I’d give it a trial, but I am blessed 
if I can see what the excitement is. Why shouldn’t 
I give it a trial? ” 

“ You gave it a trial after you got Dr. Goddard’s 
advice. Oh, I admit you are quite within your 
rights, only I didn’t think you’d do anything like 
that. I don’t see why we couldn’t have pulled it 
off together.” Martin turned away as though the 
conversation were at an end. 

“ Well, why can’t we now? ” Hen laid a detain- 


A Rehearsal and a Surprise 33 

ing hand on his arm. “ I’ll sell a half interest in the 
mine for twenty-five dollars.” 

Martin shook his head. “ Can’t be done. I 
couldn’t get twenty-five dollars. If I’d gone into 
the thing, I would have seen the agent and got his 
permission to try it out to see if it could be made a 
success. Then if it had worked, I’d have made some 
arrangement about paying later. Where would I 
get twenty-five dollars? ” 

“ Well, you do have to have capital, and that’s 
where I come in,” Hen answered easily. “You 
haven’t got it. That isn’t your fault, but I don’t 
see why you should cut me on that account. Prob- 
ably the thing’ll be a fizzle anyhow and I’ll be out 
my money.” 

Martin turned on him. “ You know it’ll come 
out all right. You took good care to look out for 
that before you put up your twenty-five bucks. I 
congratulate you, Hen Elliott, on your shrewd busi- 
ness insight. No, I’ll be hanged if I do ! If it were 
mine, I’d be ashamed of it.” 

In the next room the amateur players of “ She 
Stoops to Conquer ” had been raising healthy young 
voices in “ The Long, Long Trail.” From this they 
had gone into “ Oh ! How I Hate to Get Up in the 
Morning,” “ Keep the Home Fires Burning,” and 
other war songs of the day, winding up with “ Good 
Night, Ladies.” 


34 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Well, whoever is guiding that piano thinks it’s 
time for us to be going home,” Bert observed, “ and 
if my watch is right — she’s correct. Thanks for 
the suggestion, Alice ! ” 

There was a good-natured rush to the hall, where 
coats and hats had been left in indiscriminate and 
confusing piles. 

“ Why, if here isn’t our old friend, Hen — and 
Marty, too,” Bert sang out. “ Having a little pri- 
vate party all by yourselves ! So exclusive ! Is it 
business or pleasure? ” 

“We — we were just getting ready to go — ” 
Hen said hesitatingly. “ I only dropped in for a 
moment.” 

“ Well, you’re in time to go with us anyway; come 
along.” Bert caught him by the arm. 

“ Good Night, Ladies , Good Night, Ladies ,” the 
boys and girls sang as they ran down the front steps, 
u Good Night, Ladies, We're going to leave you 
now ” But Marty did not sing! There was a bit- 
terness in his heart that could not find expression in 
music. 


CHAPTER IV 


A FAMILY COUNCIL 

46 T DON’T like the idea at all, mother, I don’t 

X like it at all. Why can’t we stay together just 
a little longer and see what happens? ” Marty looked 
earnestly at his mother. 

“ We’ve been waiting for some time now, dear, 
and nothing has happened.” 

“ Oh, I know,” Marty cried, “ and it’s all my 
fault. I ought to have got a job right at the start, 
but you didn’t want me to go into the plant, and 
so I have waited — looking for something else. 
It’s all my fault.” 

“ No, it isn’t either, Marty, I don’t like to hear 
you say that. You can’t expect to find work with 
good pay just at the moment you want it. You have 
done the best you could; but the fact remains that 
if we let Betsey go it will help in several ways. It 
will give me time, perhaps, to do a little sewing for 
the Grahams and then, of course, it will be one 
less to feed and clothe.” 

“ I know all that, I know all that,” Marty said 
impatiently, “ but yet I don’t want to give up Betsey. 
I’ll take that job as errand boy. That would give 
35 


36 Marty Lends a Hand 

us eight dollars more a week and I can be looking 
around for something else at the same time. Surely 
with eight dollars more we can keep Betsey.” 

Mrs. Kelly shook her head. “ I can’t see why 
you object so. We’re not giving Betsey up, we’re 
just letting her go on a visit to her Cousin Ella’s in 
the country.” 

“ She isn’t her cousin,” Marty interrupted, “ she’s 
only your cousin; your second cousin, too.” 

“ And a dear, good woman,” Mrs. Kelly added. 
“ If she wants to take Betsey for a few years, it’s 
the best thing in the world for the child that she 
should. Knoll Point is a beautiful country town on 
a lovely river. She’ll be happy there, Marty. And 
Cousin Ella would be kind to her. Why, they are 
quite the people of Knoll Point. Mr. Gibbins is the 
postmaster.” 

“ I don’t care what he is; I don’t like him.” 

“ But you haven’t anything against him — ” 

“ No, I suppose I haven’t any special thing I can 
point to. But I can’t see what such an old grouch 
as he is wants with Betsey, anyhow.” 

u He doesn’t want her,” Mrs. Kelly explained, 
“ it’s his wife who wants her. She’s lonely — her 
little girl died, you know. Betsey would be a big 
comfort to her.” 

“ Oh, Cousin Ella is all right, and if he was half 
as decent as she is, I wouldn’t be minding so much, 
but still — ” Marty flung back his head defiantly — 


A Family Council 3 7 

“ I don’t like the look of it. It’s giving in. Peo- 
ple will say, ‘ The poor Kellys have got to break up 
the family ’ and they’ll wonder what’s the matter 
with me.” 

“ You mustn’t mind what people say,” his mother 
cautioned, “ and besides I don’t think they’ll say 
any such thing. Our family would be a pretty big 
proposition for a lad like you.” She paused and 
there was silence in the room for a minute. Then, 
“ You’re the man of the house just at present, Marty, 
and I don’t like to have Betsey go when you’re so 
set against it; yet I do think it’s the sensible thing.” 

“ Will they let her come back when she wants to 
or when we want her? ” 

“ Of course. But it might be advisable for her 
to stay there a few years. We can’t tell. We’d 
have to see how it worked out.” 

Marty rose and walked over to the window, a 
troubled look in his eyes. 

Just then Betsey herself ran into the room — a 
little slip of a girl entering her sixth summer. She 
ran up to her mother and, climbing into her lap, 
pressed her cheek against Mrs. Kelly’s trouble-worn 
face. 

“Am I going to visit Cousin Ella?” she asked, 
“ am I going? ” 

“ Why, Betsey, what gave you that idea? ” 

“ I just heard something about my going to 
Cousin Ella’s. Am I, mumsie, ami?” 


38 Marty Lends a Hand 

“Would you like to, Betsey?” Marty regarded 
her anxiously as he put the question. 

“ ’Course I’d like to,” she replied unhesitatingly. 
“ I like visiting.” 

“ That settles it, then,” Marty announced. “ If 
you want to go, you shall.” 

Betsey jumped down, clapping her hands. “ Oh, 
that’ll be nice, that’ll be nice. I’m going to visit 
Cousin Ella, I’m going to visit Cousin Ella!” she 
repeated in singsong fashion as she ran out of the 
room. 

“ You do think it’s the best thing, don’t you, 
Marty? ” 

“ I guess so,” Marty answered resignedly. “ But 
it’s only for a little time until I get started and I’ll 
tell Cousin Ella so, too.” 

He turned on his heel and hurried upstairs to his 
own room, shut the door, and threw himself on the 
bed. For a moment he thought he was going to 
cry, but only for a moment. Then he sat up 
straight. 

“ Of all the sissies,” he said aloud, “ Martin Kelly, 
you’re the champeen! That’s a great way to han- 
dle a family. Jiminy crickets! I ought to be in 
an orphan asylum myself.” 

It was a very sober boy who descended into the 
sitting room a half hour later, upon the arrival of 
Mrs. Herman Gibbins. 


A Family Council 39 

Mrs. Gibbins was a tall, sweet-faced woman with 
a subdued, almost apologetic manner. Her voice 
was low and musical. 

“How do you do, Martin?” she said. “Your 
mother has been telling me that you feel bad about 
letting Betsey go. That’s very noble of you and 
very natural, but don’t think, dear boy, that you’re 
giving her up ! She’s just coming to visit me for 
a while, up in the country where there are beautiful 
hills and flowers and woods and birds. She’ll have 
such a good time. Rosie ” — she stopped for a mo- 
ment and choked back a catch in her throat — “ Rosie 
and I used to have wonderful picnics. It will be 
the same with Betsey.” 

“ Yes,” Marty agreed, “ it will be nice for her, 
and you are good.” 

“ I may come for her, then, to-morrow morn- 
ing?” Mrs. Gibbins asked of Mrs. Kelly. 

Mrs. Kelly nodded her head in assent. 

“ Oh, Cousin Ella, I’m going to visit you and I’m 
so glad ! ” Betsey ran in, her cheeks pink from the 
outdoor air, her yellow curls pushed back in a wild 
tangle. 

“ I’m glad you are happy, Betsey, dear, I’ll try to 
keep you so as long as you stay with me. You and 
I are going to do lots of things.” 

“And mumsie, too?” Betsey added, “ mumsie, 
too!” 

Mrs. Gibbins paid no attention to the child’s re- 


40 Marty Lends a Hand 

mark and went right on : “ There are going to be 

big, red cherries out in our side yard and later on 
apples and pears and peaches and — oh, lots of 
things up on the farm! ” Mrs. Gibbins bent over 
and drew the child to her hungrily. “ It’s going 
to be so nice to have a little girl around again.” 
She kissed her and turned to Mrs. Kelly. 

“ Good-by! I’ll be here about ten in the morn- 
ing. Have Betsey and her things all ready, be- 
cause you know Herman doesn’t like to wait.” She 
spoke significantly. “ He says he must get back by 
three and it’s a good four hours’ trip, with our little 
Ford.” She nodded and departed. 

“ Mumsie, what does Cousin Ella mean ‘ have me 
ready’? You’re going to visit, too, aren’t you?” 
The child looked anxiously up at her mother. 

“ Not just now,” Mrs. Kelly spoke very tenderly. 
“ You are going first and then I’ll come and see you. 
Won’t that be nice? ” 

“ Oh, but mumsie,” and the tears welled to the 
surface, “ I don’t want to go alone. Please, I don’t 
want to go, I don’t want to go without you ! ” 

“ It will be so nice to have an automobile ride. 
You have never had a long automobile ride! ” 

“ I don’t want to go alone,” Betsey kept saying 
over and over, her cries becoming louder; “ Please, 
mumsie, you go, too. Please! ” 

“ Hush ! Or father will hear you. I think he’s 
asleep now.” 


A Family Council 41 

“Well, must I?” the child asked, between her 
sobs. “ Must I g o? ” 

“ You will enjoy it, Betsey. You will have a 
wonderful trip, a wonderful trip.” Mrs. Kelly 
caught her to her bosom. 

Marty had been watching the two with rising 
emotion. His lips parted as though to speak; then 
they shut again tight and he strode out of the room, 
down the hall, and out through the back door. 

He had barely disappeared from sight when Larry 
Reed ran up the front steps. 

“ Good evening,” he said when Mrs. Kelly an- 
swered his ring. “ Is Marty about? ” 

“ Yes, he’s around somewhere. Come in. 
Marty! Marty!” she called, first up the stairs 
and then down cellar and then out the back door. 
But there was no answer. 

“ I can’t understand it,” she said; “ he was here 
only a minute ago. I’m sorry, but he seems to have 
disappeared. Can I do anything? ” 

“ No, I guess not.” Larry rose. “ Why, yes, 
you can, too. Tell him that it’s all fixed up about 
the copper mine and that the mushrooms are just 
waiting to be grown there. He’ll understand. 
Good-by.” 


CHAPTER V 


“ PEGLEG ” IS INTRODUCED 

M ARTY had heard his mother calling him; he 
knew that Larry had been there to see him, 
but he was in no mood to talk to any one. He sat 
huddled up under a tree a short distance from the 
house, gloomily watching the antics of Spac, as the 
dog jumped around in the long grass and occasion- 
ally ran to his master and looked inquiringly into 
his face as if to say, “ What’s the matter? Why 
don’t you romp with me the way you usually do ? ” 
Marty felt that he had been put to the test and 
had failed dismally. 

“ Here I am as strong as any man,” he thought, 
“ moping around and wishing things were different, 
but not doing anything to make them so. Sixteen 
may not be so very old, but it ought to be old enough 
to get a decent job.” 

He sat there, miserable and unhappy, his mind 
full of a confusion of thoughts, for perhaps half an 
hour. Then he rose. 

“ Spac! ” he said aloud, with such emphasis that 
the dog cocked his head on one side doubtfully, 
42 


“ Pegleg ” Is Introduced 


43 


“ Spac, we’ll give ourselves just one more day. 
Then, if we can’t find anything else for our lily-white 
hands to do, we’ll be an errand boy, at eight per.” 

He strolled toward the house, Spac following 
humbly. 

“Why, Marty, where have you been? I was 
looking all over for you. Larry was here,” was his 
mother’s greeting. 

“ I was just down the road a ways. What did 
Larry want? ” 

“ Nothing much, I guess. He said to tell you 
something about the copper mine and mushrooms, 
that it was all right, that you’d know what he 
meant.” 

Marty’s indifference vanished. “ He said it was 
all right? Are you sure? ” 

“ I think that’s what he said; or was it that it was 
all off? I can’t seem to remember which. It was 
all something, I know.” 

“ Oh ! ” dejectedly, “ most likely all off.” 

“ I don’t think so, if that would be bad news, be- 
cause he seemed pleased. But come, now, your sup- 
per is ready. In fact, it’s almost cold.” 

“ Can’t stop for supper,” Marty began, but be- 
cause of his mother’s protestations, he sat down at 
the table and hurried through the meal. Then, 
without explanation, he seized his hat, ran out of 
the house, and up the street in the direction of 
Larry’s home. 


44 


Marty Lends a Hand 

He found Larry in the yard bending over a rose- 
bush which was just coming into bud. 

“ Say/’ Marty asked breathlessly, “ are the mush- 
rooms copper — I mean is the mine mushrooms — 
oh, hang it! Is it all right anyhow?” 

Larry laughed. “ I judge,” he replied, “ that you 
are inquiring about the copper mine. Yes, old man, 
it’s all right, I am glad to say.” 

“All right! How?” 

“ Well, come and sit down and I’ll tell you.” He 
led the way to the front-porch steps. 

“ That idea of the mushrooms was mine,” Larry 
explained. “ I gave it to you, not to Hen Elliott. 
I went to Hen and told him so, and in tones that he 
couldn’t misunderstand.” 

“ What did he say? ” Marty asked eagerly. 

“ Oh, he didn’t say much. Put up some argu- 
ment about your not being on the job, and that it was 
business to get ahead of the other fellow if you could 
and all that sort of rot. But he knew he wasn’t in 
the right and — well, that’s about all there is to it. 
He gave in; he had to! ” 

“ But the twenty-five dollars that he’d paid? ” 

“ I bought him out, paid him just what he’d spent 
and not a red cent more. So now, Mr. Kelly, you 
can go right ahead with your plans. The mine is 
yours. I’ve got the lease in my pocket. Hen and 
I went to Mr. Reynolds’ office and had it all fixed 
up. It had to be made out in my name because you 


“ Pegleg ” Is Introduced 45 

aren’t of age; but that won’t make any difference. 
The mine’s yours.” 

“ But I can’t pay you, Larry.” 

“ You can pay me when the mushrooms begin to 
grow, that’ll be soon enough. That twenty-five dol- 
lars wasn’t working and I am glad to have it.” 

“ Thank you, Larry,” Marty said simply. “ I’ll 
pay you back as soon as I can.” 

“ I hope,” Marty said, breaking the silence that 
momentarily settled upon them, “ that it won’t all 
come to nothing, that the crops won’t fail.” 

“ There is no reason why they should fail. I’ve 
been to see Professor Newcombe and he con- 
firms Doc Goddard’s opinion that it’s a good propo- 
sition.” 

“He does, does he?” Marty jumped to his feet. 
“Bully! That settles it! Newcombe knows what 
he’s talking about. It seems too good to be true — 
Gee, I can hardly wait to get started on the thing. 
Let’s go up there to-night — now, right this min- 
ute.” 

“To the mine? To-night? It’s pretty late — ” 
Larry said doubtfully. 

“ Oh, we wouldn’t have to stay long — I want to 
see what it looks like.” 

“ All right, I’m game,” Larry assented. 

Marty whistled to Spac and they started up the 
road. 

“ Some dog you’ve got there. Doesn’t look much 


46 Marty Lends a Hand 

like the ‘ animile ’ you brought up out of the depths 
of the earth,” Larry observed as Spac bounded up 
to them and immediately was off again. 

“ No, he does look a little more like a regular 
dog, but his bones still show some.” 

“ What is it you call him? I can’t get on to his 
name.” 

“I don’t wonder. Spac — S-P-A-C. Catch 
on? ” 

Larry shook his head. “ Can’t say that I do.” 

“ Simple enough. I never expected to keep him, 
but somehow he just naturally attached himself to 
me and now I couldn’t think of parting with him — 
he’s a good friend. But he almost got sent to the 
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals — 
the S. P. C. A. — consequently I named him almost 
in honor of that institution. I couldn’t very well 
call him Spca because you can’t pronounce that, so 
I changed the last two letters about.” 

Larry laughed. “ Clever, but still it’s almost a 
crime to inflict a name like that on a living creature. 
Spac ! ” — disdainfully. 

“ He seems to like it, anyhow. Did you notice 
how he turned when you spoke his name? ” 

They were nearing the mine — in the dusk a more 
awesome place than ever. Below them stretched the 
meadows, a great impenetrable void fringed with 
the twinkling lights of the distant city; in back rose 
the hill into which the mine had been dug, its ragged 


“ Pegleg” Is Introduced 47 

outline looming against the sky, a giant tree stand- 
ing out, bare and forsaken, on its crest. 

Spac no longer ran ahead, but walked close by 
the boys, perhaps remembering his former unfor- 
tunate experience and resolving in his little dog mind 
to play it safe this time. 

Without the hesitancy that marked their former 
visit, Larry and Marty walked up to the door in the 
hill. 

“ If Pegleg says anything to us we’ll tell him we’re 
the new owners,” Marty said, “ and that we’ll fire 
him if he doesn’t behave. I don’t think such an aw- 
ful lot of him myself.” 

“ We’d better be good to him until we get rid of 
him,” Larry advised. “ He’s boss around here 
now. We’ll have to get him to show us through. 
We’ll need lights. Let’s call him.” 

“Hey, Jake! Hey, Pegleg! Hello there! 
Anybody around? Hey, Pegleg! ” 

Over and over again the boys sent the call through 
the ramshackle buildings that were scattered around 
the base of the hill, but no answer came. Finally 
they shouted into the black cavern yawning in front 
of them, “Hey, Pegleg! Hey, Jake!” And to 
their astonishment their summons was answered; 
they had not thought to find any one in there. 

Coming toward them through the tunnel, the lan- 
tern that he carried casting grotesque shadows on 
the rough interior, was a peculiar figure, who, as he 


48 Marty Lends a Hand 

emerged into the outside light, seemed almost to 
have stepped out of romance. 

He was short and lean, swarthy of complexion, 
with an unpleasant squint in one eye and only one 
tooth in his mouth and that about in the middle of 
his upper jaw. A straggly beard, a fiery mat of red 
hair, through which a comb had not, apparently, 
been passed for many months, clothes dirty and 
ragged, and his left leg from the knee down a crude 
artificial affair beginning in a confusion of leather 
straps and terminating in a rough stick of wood re- 
sembling a broom handle — that was Pegleg. 

“ Wha’ y’u wan’?” he asked gruffly. “Come, 
wha’ y’u wan’ ? ” 

u If you please, we should like to see the mine,” 
Marty answered, almost genially. 

“ Well, y’u can’t, tha’s all. Now, go! ” 

“ Oh, but we can. We’ve rented it,” Marty per- 
sisted. 

“Rented it! Humph! Go ’n! No time to 
fool wi’ y’u.” 

“ Look out, Pegleg, or we’ll discharge you. I tell 
you we’ve rented the mine.” 

“ I’m on to y’u — Y’u can’t come in. ’S my 
job to look out for th’ mine. Ge’ along! ” 

“ Show him the paper, Larry, show him the paper 
and then he’ll let us in. He’ll have to.” 

“ Yeah, show me it,” Pegleg sneered. “ Show 
me it.” 


“ Pegleg ” Is Introduced 49 

Larry drew out from his inner coat pocket an of- 
ficial-looking document and held it up to Pegleg. 

“ Don’ make no diff’rence. Fake — likely.” 

“You know Mr. Reynolds, don’t you? — the 
mine’s agent, the man that pays you, if you get paid, 
for what you do around here? ” 

“ Yeah,” Pegleg admitted. 

“ Well, there is his signature, see? ” Larry spelled 
the name out. 

“ If y’u’re fakin’ me I’ll — I’ll — I’ll run y’u out 
on this,” Pegleg flourished his cane. 

“ But we aren’t, Pegleg. This is genuine,” 
Marty insisted. 

“ Well, s’pose I’ll have to le’ y’u in. Stay here 
while I ge’ ’nother lantern. Stay righ’ here so I 
won’ have to look ’roun’ for y’u,” he cautioned as 
he disappeared into the black mouth of the tunnel. 

When Pegleg returned a few minutes later he 
seemed slightly more affable. “ Don’ know wha’ 
y’u expec’ to see. Nothin’ here bu’ holes. Come 
along.” He gave one of the lanterns to Marty and, 
carrying the other himself, led the way. 

First there was a narrow passage hardly high 
enough for the boys to walk upright. It was lined 
with huge, rough timbers which held back the earth 
and rocks. At the end of this was a big, heavy door. 
Stepping through this the three found themselves in 
a compartment, almost like a square room, from 
which, in different directions, ran smaller tunnels. 


50 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ This is the place we got to the other day. 
Don’t you remember?” Marty whispered; “we 
could feel it grow big in the darkness.” 

Jake’s keen ears had caught the words. “ Y’u 
been here b’fore? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, once. We were looking for you, but we 
couldn’t find you and we went back. We didn’t have 
any lights and couldn’t see anything.” 

“ Uh ! ” — and it seemed to Larry that there was 
relief in Jake’s tone. 

“What do you use this room for, Jake?” Larry 
inquired. 

“ Nothin’ special, nothin’ special,” Jake answered 
hastily. “ Sleep here or eat here, jus’ ’s it happens, 
jus’ ’s it happens.” 

“ I should think,” Marty ventured, “ you’d like 
it better to live in one of the regular buildings.” 

“Live in ’em, too; if it’s cold come in here. 
Better ’n keepin’ lot of fires.” 

“ Like the woodchuck, he goes into the ground in 
winter,” Larry suggested. 

“ Looks as if sometimes you entertained quite a 
party in this cave.” Marty pointed to eight or ten 
wooden boxes arranged like chairs around a larger 
box, the table. 

“ No, no, no,” Jake objected. “ Sometimes have 
a frien’ for the night; tha’s all, tha’s all.” 

“Can we go into the smaller tunnels?” Marty 
inquired. 



“ This is genuine,” Marty insisted 





“ Pegleg” Is Introduced 51 

u Y’u can,” Jake answered, “ but I wouldn’t ad- 
vise y’u to. ’Tain’t safe. Tha’ there ’n,” point- 
ing to one, “ is cavin’ in a ways back. Tha’ there 
’n’s weak,” indicating another. “ Best let ’em all 
alone for tha’ matter. This here’s safe ’nough, and 
there’s nothin’ to go in them tunnels for anyhow.” 

“ No, I suppose not. I just thought I’d like to 
see all there was to see,” Marty explained. “ Be- 
sides, I’m not certain which is the best place for my 
experiment.” 

“’Speriment! Wha’ y’u goin’ to do? You 
plannin’ t’ work this mine? Ain’t nothin’ in *t.” 

“ No,” Marty said, “ I’m not going to mine cop- 
per, I’m going to — ” 

“ Some other time,” Larry interrupted, “ you can 
tell Jake about it, not now.” 

Marty walked up to one of the tunnels and took 
a few steps into it, peering curiously ahead into the 
darkness which his light pierced for only a few feet. 

As he did so, there came to him out of the black- 
ness through which he was trying to see, the unmis- 
takable sound of footsteps, at first faintly near at 
hand, but the thud, thud, thud ! growing fainter and 
fainter; it seemed to him, too, at one moment that 
he could almost see several figures moving about as 
in flight. 

“ What’s doing in there? ” Marty asked of Jake. 

“ Jus’ a little failin’ earth — a cave-in.” 


52 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“Cave-in — nothing!” Marty retorted sharply. 
“ There’s somebody in there and you know it; some 
of your cronies, I suppose. Shall we go and see, 
Larry? ” 

Jake sprang to the opening and blocked the way. 

“ Y’u can’t go in,” he said. “ ’Tain’t safe.” 

Marty shrugged his shoulders indifferently. 
“ Oh, very well, we won’t argue about it. Besides, 
I guess we’ve seen enough for one day.” 

With Jake in the lead they retraced their steps 
and soon felt the fresh air of the evening on their 
faces. 

“ We’re much obliged, Jake,” Marty began, “ for 
showing us around; but I don’t think we’ll need you 
any more. I’ll take care of the mine myself from 
now on.” 

“ Y’u mean y’u won’ wan’ me a-watchin’? ” Jake 
asked. 

“ I guess that’s about it, Jake. I can’t afford a 
watchman. I’m just going to carry on a little ex- 
perimenting in the mine and I want it all to myself. 
All to myself , understand? So get your gang out, 
too! Don’t forget them! I’ll be able to do my 
own watching from now on.” 

Jake said no word, but sullenly regarded the boys 
as they walked away. When they were out of hear- 
ing, he muttered: “Do your own watchin’, will 
y’u? Humph, we’ll see, we’ll see! ” 


CHAPTER VI 


A BARGAIN IS SEALED 

E ARLY the next morning Marty went to see 
Professor Newcombe. 

Many years before, the professor had taught in 
Westvale High, but when his years of service had 
numbered somewhere around twenty-five he retired 
from the faculty and purchased a little plot of 
ground on the outskirts of the. town on which he 
erected a tiny bungalow. Here he brought his books 
and other choice possessions and proceeded to en- 
joy life after his own solitary manner. 

He spent most of his time in his gardens, which 
were the wonder and the talk of the community. 
Many rare flowers blossomed under his tender care; 
many a plant wholly unknown in that locality 
thrived. Then, too, there was always a wild luxuri- 
ance of the more common varieties — a perfect riot 
of color was the acre and a half of his land during 
the summer months. 

The professor apparently had no near relatives; 
he had never married and he had no brothers or 
sisters. But he had friends galore ! In fact he was 
quite an institution in Westvale. People consulted 
53 


54 Marty Lends a Hand 

him about all manner of growing things and he was 
always eager to advise and generous with his help. 

Marty found the professor, that morning, work- 
ing over one of his hotbeds. He glanced up and 
smiled as Marty approached. 

“ My name is Kelly, Martin Kelly,” the boy 
began. 

The professor nodded pleasantly and rose from 
his task. “ Yes, I know. Dr. Goddard told me 
he had advised you to see me. That is very good. 
It’s mushrooms you’re interested in, isn’t it? ” 

“ Yes,” eagerly, “ I’ve got to make money. My 
father, you know, has been hurt and can’t work. It’s 
up to me.” 

“ Let’*s go over to the bench, lad, and we’ll talk 
about it.” Professor Newcombe led the way to a 
rustic seat under a near-by tree. 

“ Mushrooms are good things to grow,” he said 
slowly as he sat down, “ but one doesn’t get rich over- 
night growing them and it means a lot of hard 
work.” 

“ I’m not afraid of work,” Marty said. 

“ No, I don’t believe you are,” after a moment, 
“ but I don’t want you to have any illusions. I don’t 
want you to think that you will be sure of a profit 
in a week or two weeks, or two months.” 

Marty’s face fell. “ Oh, but won’t I, if all goes 
well, in two months? ” 

“ Perhaps, perhaps, but you mustn’t count on it.” 


55 


A Bargain Is Sealed 

“ I want to do it anyhow and I want to make good 
and I will — if — you will help me with your ad- 
vice.” 

“ That’s the spirit, and of course I’ll help. 
Be glad to. I’ve always been interested in 
mushrooms. As a boy I used to gather them in the 
pastures on the farm. Ah, those days ! When 
have I seen mushrooms like those wild ones? ” The 
professor paused, and there was a reminiscent look 
in his eyes. “ But you aren’t interested in that.” 

“ Oh, but I am,” Marty said. 

“ Well, some time I’ll have to tell you some stories 
about those days. But I know boys and I know you 
are interested right now, not in reminiscences, but 
in the old copper mine and what you can do with 
it.” 

“Have you grown any mushrooms lately?” 
Marty asked. 

“ Yes. In fact, I have two or three beds now 
that will soon be coming into bearing. But I want 
you to do the talking. Tell me about the mine. I 
have never been there.” 

Briefly Marty described the entering tunnel, the 
large chamber, and the smaller tunnels diverging 
from it. 

“Fine! Fine! It couldn’t be better! The 
smaller tunnels, you say, end in some cases in shafts 
which lead up into the air? ” 

Marty nodded. 


56 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Excellent ! Excellent ! That will give us ven- 
tilation. Ventilation, you know, is very necessary 
for successful mushroom culture. Temperature 
too — we’ll probably have to make some arrange- 
ments for heat in the colder months • — a charcoal 
burner perhaps — and we’ll have to watch out and 
see that it doesn’t get too hot in summer.” 

“ Pegleg,” Marty put in, “ says it isn’t ever very 
cold in the tunnel, he sleeps there when it freezes 
outside, and I don’t believe it’s ever hot, way down 
there in the earth.” 

“ We shall see, we shall see. A fairly even 
temperature must be maintained all the time, sum- 
mer and winter. Too much heat is as bad — or 
worse — than -too little. However, we are getting 
ahead too fast.” 

“ First, I suppose,” Marty said, “ come the beds 
and the manure and the compost. I’ve been reading 
up on mushrooms and I know what the books say, 
but you can’t always go by books alone.” 

“ You are right. Experience is the best teacher 
in mushroom growing as in everything else. So 
much depends upon conditions that can’t be set down 
in black and white.” 

“ Before we go any further, professor, let’s talk 
business. I haven’t any money, as I suppose Dr. 
Goddard told you.” 

“ What is money, when one can grow mushrooms 
in a mine? ” the professor said. 


57 


A Bargain Is Sealed 

“ Oh, I know, but you are busy, and — ” 

“ Busy ! Ask some of the people around here ! 
All I do, they say, is to putter about with pots and 
flowers.” 

“But — don’t they see,” Marty asked, “the 
beauty that you make? ” 

“ Some do, some do. It touches me to have you 
put it that way, for that’s what I like about garden- 
ing. A little care can make an old, dull spot blos- 
som with the very radiance of heaven.” 

There was a moment’s silence, and then Marty 
began again. “ As I was saying, I haven’t any 
money and I wouldn’t feel that it was right to let 
you give your time without some return. It seems 
awfully nervy in me even to suggest it, but would 
you help me with your advice for a part of the — 
the mushrooms ” — the boy laughed at what seemed 
to him the absurdity of the question — “ the mush- 
rooms that haven’t been grown? ” 

“ Why, of course, and that’s the only way I would 
do it, if you had barrels of money. And now I’ve 
got a little proposition to make on my own account.” 

“ Yes? ” Marty said expectantly. 

“ How old are you? ” 

“ Sixteen, sir.” 

“ Too young to go to war,” the professor ob- 
served. 

“ I had thought that if Germany was not licked 
next year I’d enlist. You can do that if you get 


58 Marty Lends a Hand 

your parents’ consent, when you’re seventeen. But, 
of course, dad’s accident changes everything. I’ve 
got to stay home and take care of the folks now.” 

“Yes, lad, there is no question where your duty 
would lie even if you were old enough to join De- 
mocracy’s army. But I’m getting away from my 
proposition. I need help on my little flower farm; 
the man I’ve had with me for years has enlisted and 
I’m without any one. How’d you like to work for 
me in your spare time? ” 

“ Fine, professor. Perhaps in that way I could 
repay you for helping me with the mushrooms.” 

“ The mushrooms themselves will take care of 
any little obligation there may be in that direction. 
This is another and quite separate matter.” The 
professor smiled kindly. “You see I’ve got a lot 
of plants started here that have to be cared for, and 
that take a great deal of time. You could work 
for me mornings, perhaps, and afternoons take care 
of your mushrooms and do odd jobs around home. 
Does that appeal to you? I could pay you ten dol- 
lars a week — but I’m a hard taskmaster ! ” 

“ Really, do you think I could earn that much? 
Because I’d be glad to do all I could for nothing — 
you’re so kind about helping me out.” 

“ This is a business proposition of mine. You’ll 
just be doing the work that some one else has always 
done and been paid for. I always sell a lot of 
flowers in the summertime and if I don’t have some 


A Bargain Is Sealed 59 

one to assist me, there won’t be any flowers to sell. 
The mushrooms haven’t anything to do with this. 
We’re to be partners in that business and I’ll take 
my share out of the profits. It just happened that 
you came to me when I was in dire need of a hand 
or two.” 

“ Oh, I’d love to work for you, professor.” 

“ It’s a bargain, then? ” 

“ It is!” 

“ And when do you start? ” 

“ To-morrow ! ” 

“ Fine. And now let’s get back to the mush- 
rooms. Come into the house where I have a few 
old reliable books and a reference table or two. 
We’ll get right down to facts.” 

For an hour they studied and planned, the old 
man’s enthusiasm rising with each moment. 

“ It’s going to be more exciting than anything I’ve 
done in years,” he said, when Marty expressed 
the fear that too mudi was being put upon him. 
“ You don’t need to worry about me. I shall 
enjoy it! ” 

And so they apportioned the labor between them, 
Marty assuming the heavier tasks and the professor 
those calling for some special knowledge of mush- 
room growing and including the preparation of the 
compost, a difficult matter and — as he explained — 
a vital factor in success. 

“ Unless the compost is exactly right,” Professor 


60 Marty Lends a Hand 

Newcombe said, “ no amount of care to the other 
details will give you a good crop. The compost 
comes first in importance.” 

“ I didn’t suppose you had to be so fussy about 
a manure,” Marty said. 

“ A compost for mushrooms, lad, is more than 
ordinary manure, as you will see. It’s manure that 
has been carefully watched and tended and turned 
over until it has reached just the right stage of 
heat and moisture. I figure that we’ll need several 
good wagon loads, if we’re going to have three beds 
each of a hundred square feet. But don’t you worry 
your head about that. I’m a gardener and composts 
are my specialty. What you’ve got to look out for 
are the frames and the getting of the spawn. We’ll 
be ready for that in two weeks. I’ve told you the 
kind, you know, and the best place to secure it.” 

“ What a lot I’ve learned this morning. I 
thought mushrooms came from seeds and that they 
grew overnight,” Marty said as he rose to go. 

“ Well, you can call the spawn seed if you like,” 
Professor Newcombe replied. “ That’s in effect 
what it is, and if mushrooms don’t grow overnight, 
they grow in less time than almost anything else. 
We ought to have nice, big ones in eight or ten weeks 
after we plant the spawn. Enough of this, though ! 
We’ve got to keep some of the mysteries for another 
time.” He reached out his hand. “ I will see you 
at the mine this afternoon. Good-by.” 


A Bargain Is Sealed 6l 

Marty was late that night to the rehearsal of 
“ She Stoops to Conquer.” 

“ Most likely he’s turned into a mushroom,” Bert 
Simmons suggested. “That’s all he talks about 
these days.” 

“Well, you can’t blame him, can you?” Wilda 
Bennett chirped up. “ I think it’s the most excit- 
ing thing — growing mushrooms in that mine. It 
makes me fairly quiver just to think of it, and if I 
were doing it, I’d be on tiptoe all the time.” 

At this point, Dr. Goddard rapped on the table for 
attention. 

“ Come to order, ladies and gentlemen.” He 
paused a moment, and then continued, “ You’ll be 
pleased to hear that I have the complimentary tickets, 
seven for each player. Do not go without getting 
them to-night. One other announcement: You 
are all to meet at Fischer’s next Saturday evening to 
be measured and fitted for your costumes — Fischer, 
the costumer, you know, in Newton City. The cos- 
tumes will then be ready for our final dress rehearsal. 

“ Now, then,” he looked around the little group, 
“ you have only a few more rehearsals before you 
will be facing that great audience in the theater. 
Let’s make the most of this evening. The first scene 
is called.” 

Marty came in in time to answer his cue — and it 
was the old Marty, the Marty whom the sopho- 
mores of Westvale High had missed since the acci- 


62 Marty Lends a Hand 

dent to Mr. Kelly. There was the old-time sparkle 
in his eye, the ready smile on his lips. 

“ Hamlet is himself again,” Bert Simmons jested, 
“’or no, is that famous line about Othello? I fear 
me it is. I judge mushrooms are as much as one 
dollar and a half a pound and that your crop is 
flourishing. It’s good to see your smiling counte- 
nance once more.” 

Tony Lumpkin, that night, was all that even Dr. 
Goddard could ask. Marty rollicked through the 
part, bringing many a laugh from the other players 
and even a smile to Dr. Goddard’s lips. 

And all his gayety was not assumed. Marty’s 
pride had been hurt by the fact that, when his folks 
had needed him, he had seemed to fail them. The 
departure of his sister with Cousin Ella he had 
taken as a personal disgrace due wholly to his own 
shortcomings. Now things were brighter; oppor- 
tunity had come his way and he had grasped it. 
There was hard work ahead, he knew, but he loved 
that and in time there would be rewards which 
would serve to lighten his mother’s burdens and 
would bring back Betsey. Life was taking on its 
old rosy hue. He felt that it had been his duty to 
set things right under his own humble roof and it 
had grieved him that he had not known how to do 
it. Now he believed he had found a way. 


CHAPTER VII 

A LITTLE EXCITEMENT AT THE MINE 

T HE next few weeks were busy ones for Marty. 

A great deal of really hard work had to be 
done in order to fit the mine for the growing of 
mushrooms and this Marty insisted upon doing him- 
self under the professor’s directions. 

“ Really, professor, I can’t take more from you 
than all your advice and the benefit of your experi- 
ence,” Marty said one morning when the old man 
seemed bent on the performance of some task him- 
self. “ Even then you are giving too much.” 

And so Marty had himself cleaned out the spaces 
which had been selected as suitable for the mush- 
room beds, gathered the material for their frame- 
work and built them, finally filling them in with the 
compost, prepared under the professor’s experienced 
eye. Every morning Marty worked in the profes- 
sor’s gardens — cultivating, transplanting, weeding, 
plying the professor, who often labored at his side, 
with questions and listening intently to the words 
of the old naturalist as he told of the growing of 
rare and peculiar plants. 

At home Marty’s venture was being followed 
63 


64 Marty Lends a Hand 

with the closest of attention. He had communi- 
cated to his mother so much of his own enthusiasm " 
for it that, with him, she had begun to believe 
that at some not far distant date the mushrooms 
might be looked to as a certain source of income. 
The finances of the family were slightly less strait- 
ened now than they had been for a time — through 
Marty’s earnings and the little sums which Mrs. 
Kelly was able occasionally to contribute from her 
sewing. Mr. Kelly’s condition, too, was improving, 
and, though he was still kept to his bed and had not 
regained the use of his left side, he was making dis- 
tinct progress each day. So altogether the outlook 
was brighter and the clouds of despair which had 
settled upon the little household were gradually be- 
ing dispersed. 

“ Things might be a lot worse,” Mrs. Kelly ob- 
served one day after Marty had described the prog- 
ress he had made at the mine. “You are certain 
of success in your work and I am certain with you. 
Your father is suffering less with each day and be- 
coming more cheerful. I have just enough sewing 
to keep me busy and Betsey is having a glorious va- 
cation up in the country. I had a letter from Cousin 
Ella only to-day just full of the wonderful times she 
and my little girl are having in the woods and fields. 
She says Betsey is so plump and rosy we wouldn’t 
know her. But Ella dear is not very well. I fear 
she is unhappy.” 


A Little Excitement at the Mine 65 

“ I should think she might well be, with that old 
man bossing her around,” Marty said. “ He’s 
enough to make anybody unhappy. I’d sooner have 
Pegleg than him.” 

Mrs. Kelly laughed as she shook her head. 
“ You will make Mr. Gibbins out a perfect cur- 
mudgeon, won’t you, Marty? But tell me, is Peg- 
leg still troubling you? ” 

“ Oh, not so much. I just let him alone, that’s all, 
and I am satisfied when he lets me alone, but some- 
how I always feel as though his evil eyes were fol- 
lowing me.” 

“ I guess you made a mistake in allowing him to 
stay there at the mine.” 

“ Yes, most likely I did, but what could a fellow 
do ? He came to me with that pitiful story — no 
place to go, no money — couldn’t he live in one of 
the unused buildings — promised he wouldn’t do any 
harm, and so on and so on. Naturally I had to say 
‘yes.’ If he’d only stay in his old building, I 
wouldn’t care, but he’s always popping up somewhere 
else. I am afraid I’ll have to tell him to get out 
altogether, and yet I’m almost afraid to.” 

“ Does he know what you’re doing? ” Mrs. Kelly 
asked. 

“ I guess he can’t have much doubt of it. I’m 
certain that he goes around each day after I’ve gone 
and notes the progress that’s been made. There’s 
no way of locking him out.” 


66 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ I should think you’d tell him,” Mrs. Kelly said, 
“ that the next time you see him in your part of the 
mine, or know of his being there, you’d have to for- 
bid him the property altogether.” 

“Um — um — ” Marty agreed. “ I’ll make up 
my mind to tell him that now, and then, when I see 
him, I’ll be as mum as a clam.” 

This conversation recurred to Marty that very 
afternoon when, with Spac at his heels, he came face 
to face with Pegleg as he was entering the tunnel. 
He stepped back into the daylight and waited for 
Pegleg to come out. If there was going to be an 
argument he would rather have it in the open 
air. 

“ See here, Pegleg,” he said, as the man came 
stumping along toward him, “ what are you doing 
in there?” Once the words were out Marty felt 
a rush of courage and continued: “ Haven’t I told 
you that you were to stay down at the other end of 
this property? ” 

“Wa’n’t doin’ nothin’, wa’n’t doin’ nothin’, 
wa’n’t doin’ nothin’,” Pegleg muttered. “ Jus’ 
lookin’ ’roun’, jus’ lookin’ ’roun’.” 

“ Well, do you understand that you are not to 
look around any more? I want you to keep out! 
Get me? Keep out! ” Marty’s tone was defiant. 

Pegleg fell to whimpering. “ Don’ see why y’u’re 
s’ hard ’n me,” he sniffled. “ Everybody’s always 
kickin’ Pegleg ’roun’.” 


A Little Excitement at the Mine 67 

“ None of that,” Marty interrupted, familiar with 
Pegleg s tactics. u Remember, over there is where 
you belong,” and he pointed to a building several 
hundred feet away. “ See that you stay over there. 
There is nothing whatsoever that interests you 
here.” 

Without further words, Marty took up his lan- 
tern and went into the mine. Pegleg hesitated a 
moment and then started in the direction of his 
quarters. 

When Marty had made certain, from his vantage 
point within, that Pegleg had really gone, he began 
his examination of the mushroom beds. The spawn 
had not been planted, as the compost had not yet 
reached the right temperature. Professor New- 
combe had told him that it would be unwise to do 
his planting until the thermometer buried in the bed 
registered about seventy degrees. His instructions 
were that when this temperature was reached Marty 
was to summon him and they would together plant 
the spawn, a most particular operation calling for the 
exercise of great care. The day before, the beds 
had been almost at the proper heat. 

“ What do you suppose we’ll find to-day, Spac? ” 
Marty asked of the dog trailing his footsteps. 
“ Most likely we’ll have to do our little planting 
stunt to-night, but we wish, old boy, that it might 
be postponed a day or so, because to-night, you 
know, we are going to act ! ” 


68 


Marty Lends a Hand 

As he spoke he dug into the soft earth of one of 
the beds and drew out the thermometer. 

“By Jiminy! It is just about seventy.” He 
looked at it a second to make sure, replaced it, rose 
from his knees and gave a long whistle. He took 
out his watch ; it was three o’clock. There were four 
hours before he was due at the theater. It would 
take two hours to do the planting, an hour or so to 
get home and get cleaned up. “ Guess we’ve got 
plenty of time to do it to-night, Spac,” he said aloud. 
“ Come along,” and a moment later dog and master 
were speeding up the road in the direction of Pro- 
fessor Newcombe’s cottage. 

Professor Newcombe saw them coming and 
guessed the news. 

“ It’s time to plant the spawn, I’ll venture,” he 
said, as Marty came up to him. “ Anybody would 
think it had to be planted right on the minute,” he 
added, laughing. 

“ But you said to let you know when the ther- 
mometer reached seventy degrees and that’s what it 
is now. I don’t know how long it will stay that 
way.” 

“ It will probably continue to drop a little each 
day until it reaches say sixty degrees, which is the 
desirable growing temperature. The planting can 
be done with the beds registering anywhere from 
sixty to seventy, but I prefer seventy. So as there’s 
no reason why we can’t or shouldn’t, we might as 


A Little Excitement at the Mine 69 

well put the spawn in to-night. I’ll be with you and 
ready for the work in a minute.” 

On their way back to the mine Marty explained 
that the production of “ She Stoops to Conquer ” by 
the sophomores was to come that evening, and that he 
would have to be at the theater by seven o’clock. 

“ Oh, there will not be any difficulty about that,” 
the professor assured him. “ We’ll be through by 
half past five. So you’re to make your debut to- 
night, are you? What part do you play?” 

“Tony Lumpkin, sir, at your service” — with 
a touch of Tony’s swagger. “ Heaps of fun in that 
part. I’m going to put it over to-night.” 

Arriving at the mine they eagerly began the task 
before them. Two pairs of hands made short work 
of the planting and in little more than an hour it was 
all done. 

“The first step taken — ” Marty said proudly. 
Then after a moment, and looking around at the lit- 
tered floor, “ Well, I guess I’ve got time to put things 
in order a bit before I go. I like things put in 
place; it’s bad enough finding ’em in this dark hole, 
anyway.” 

“ You are a lad after my own heart,” the pro- 
fessor said, “ but I think I’ll have to leave you now, 
as I want to finish some planting of my own before 
it gets dark. Remember what I told you about 
sprinkling the beds and watching the temperature 


70 Marty Lends a Hand 

and ventilation. I am sure we are going to have 
a wonderful crop.” With a cheery nod he started 
for the exit, Spac following him out. 

Marty stood surveying the work of the afternoon 
with keen pleasure. Here was the beginning of the 
realization of his dreams. Into these beds he had 
built high hopes. He was happy in his belief that 
out of them would spring — not mere mushrooms, 
as they were only the means to an end, but comforts 
for his mother, his brothers and sisters and his fa- 
ther, perhaps even luxuries. 

With a little smile of satisfaction he stowed away 
the tools he had been using. Then taking an old 
basket he started to pick up the litter of paper which 
gave the tunnel its untidy appearance. When he 
had gathered it all he stepped back with his basket 
into the smaller tunnel that shot off at the right of 
his beds. He would deposit his rubbish in there 
where it would be both out of the way and out of 
sight. 

Hardly had he turned when there was a dull 
crash as of the breaking of rotten timbers, followed 
at once by a wild tumble of loosened earth and rock. 
In the brief glimpse that Marty had before the light 
was entirely shut out, it seemed to him as though 
the whole structure around him were collapsing; the 
air was filled with falling dirt and splintered wood. 

“ Cave-in ! ” he cried. “ Oh, my beautiful 
beds!” Then he wondered about his own safety. 


A Little Excitement at the Mine 71 

He had left his lantern in the room that was now 
nothing but a solid pile of earth. The tunnel that 
he was in apparently had no open shaft, for it was 
so black he could not even see the sides of it or 
know in which direction it extended. But he knew 
that he must move from that immediate section, so 
a step at a time he made his way forward for what 
seemed at least a mile, but what was really only a 
few feet. 

“ Oh, if it were only possible to do something,” he 
thought over and over again, “ if it were only possi- 
ble to do something.” But what could he do there 
alone in darkness shut off by a perfect mountain of 
earth ? 

What a mess things were in ! His labor had gone 
for naught; the money that he had spent likewise; 
his beds were buried under a mass of debris. And 
the play — that occurred to him in a flash! The 
great sophomore production — why it would be 
ruined ; there was no one ready to take his part. He 
leaned on the damp earth wall and stiffened himself 
against the flood of tears he felt coming — he would 
fight, given the chance, but he saw none. And with 
it all, to miss being Tony Lumpkin. 

He did not know that on the other side of the 
great pile of clay and rock was a little brown dog, 
barking furiously at the obstruction which separated 
him from his master. 


CHAPTER VIII 

TO THE RESCUE! 

U TT ASN’T Tony come yet?” Bert Simmons 

n called across the dressing room to Hen El- 
liott, who stood in front of a full-length mirror eying 
himself critically. 

“ Guess not.” Elliott was too intent on his own 
appearance to give much thought to anything else. 
“ Say, Jiminy crickets, don’t I look all fussed up? 
Anybody would think I was a king instead of a 
servant.” He glanced down at his costume doubt- 
fully. 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” Bert answered; “ they used 
to fix their servants up in fearful and wonderful ways 
in the days of this play. You’re just about medium, 
I should say. Wait until you see me, with my plush 
coat and knickerbockers.” 

The Majestic Theater was a place of bustle and 
excitement on this greatest of all nights for the 
sophomore players. Boys and girls, waiting for the 
attention of the make-up man, strolled around the 
darkened stage peering curiously into every corner. 
It was a new land to them, this back-stage region, 
and they found its exploration fascinating. 

72 


To the Rescue ! 


73 

“Oh, you do look so funny!” Wilda Bennett 
laughed as she came face to face with Bert Sim- 
mons. “ I am sure I should never have fallen in 
love with you in the play if you looked as you do now ! 
The modern hair cut doesn’t go with the rest of 
you. Do get your wig on and be presentable.” 

“ Get it on! Get it on! I’d like to,” Bert flung 
back, “ but that old fellow who is applying the 
grease paint is as slow as a snail. I expect he’ll 
get around to fix me up about the time the curtain 
rises.” 

“ Be patient, it takes a lot of time to get the girls 
ready, you know. We simply have to look nice,” 
Wilda retorted gayly and was off. 

“ But say,” Bert sang out after her, “ have you 
seen. Tony? It’s almost time to begin and he hasn’t 
shown up.” 

Wilda turned sharply. “ You mean to say that 
Marty isn’t here? ” 

Bert nodded. 

“ Does Dr. Goddard know it? ” 

“ Search me. I suppose so.” 

u You suppose so,” Wilda snapped; “ why haven’t 
you been to see him yourself? What time is it?” 

“ Half past seven by the clock up there.” 

“ Well, I shall see Dr. Goddard at once ! ” Wilda 
ran off the stage and downstairs into the little room 
where she knew Dr. Goddard was giving a few final 
instructions to those in the tavern scene whose duties 


74 Marty Lends a Hand 

consisted, mainly, as he put it, of “ sitting around 
and taking things easy.” 

Wilda dashed in upon the group excitedly. “ Dr. 
Goddard, Marty isn’t here and it’s twenty-five min- 
utes to eight.” 

“Marty not here?” The doctor echoed her 
words. “ Why, something must be the matter.” 

“ What can we do? ” Wilda cried impatiently. 

“ I think we’d better send some one to Marty’s 
home,” Dr. Goddard answered. “ It isn’t very far 
— fifteen minutes’ walk. I’ll attend to it. Prob- 
ably he’ll come in the meantime — but it won’t do 
any harm to dispatch a messenger anyway. Thank 
you for coming to me, Miss Bennett.” 

Somewhat reassured, Wilda went back to the 
stage. 

“ Well, I suppose it’s all settled now,” was Bert’s 
greeting. 

“ Bert, I think you’re horrid! ” Wilda stamped 
her foot. “ I’m so worried. Why, if anything hap- 
pened to Marty, the play would have to be post- 
poned.” 

“ Oh, but he’ll come, he’ll come. Just give him 
time. Probably he got so interested watching the 
mushrooms grow — you know you can see ’em if 
you watch closely — he just naturally forgot about 
the time. Forget it yourself and come over and see 
these sceneshifters. They’re fixing the first act. 
It’s a dandy set.” 


To the Rescue! 


75 

Meanwhile Marty sat alone in the dark tunnel of 
the mine, vainly trying to figure out some way of 
escape. Spac no longer barked on the other side of 
the obstruction, but he had not given up the fight. 
When his barking and howling, his little staccato 
yelps varied now and then with long drawn-out wails, 
brought no result, he sat down on his haunches — 
perhaps to rest, perhaps to think. 

It may have been sheer weariness or it may have 
been dog reasoning, that took him to his feet a little 
later, and off, out of the mine and in the direction 
of Larry’s home. 

Bert Simmons would have said, had he been con- 
sulted, that the dog just naturally went to Larry’s 
because Marty usually stopped there on his way home 
from the mine, but Marty always knew, quite posi- 
tively, that Spac went to Larry’s with the sole inten- 
tion of bringing help. 

Be that as it may, about seven o’clock Larry heard 
a familiar scratching at his back door, followed by 
a barking that could only belong to one little brown 
mongrel. 

“That’s Spac! I wonder if Marty’s here. He 
ought to be at the theater by now.” Larry went to 
the door, opened it, and Spac bounded in, barking 
all the time. 

“ Hello, old fellow! ” Larry stooped down and 
caught his head between his hands and tried to ruffle 
him in the way which had always delighted the dog. 


76 Marty Lends a Hand 

But this time Spac drew away and ran to the door 
and barked again. 

“What’s the idea? Very well, out you go.” 
Larry opened the door and Spac shot out, but he 
went only a few feet, then turned and looked ques- 
tioningly at Larry, barking incessantly. 

Larry regarded him doubtfully. “ You’re as wild 
as an Indian! Now, go along; I’ve got to get 
dressed to go out and haven’t time to fool with you.” 
He turned to the door, but Spac ran up on to the 
porch and began a furious onslaught. 

“What’s the matter, what’s the matter, Spacky? 
Have you gone mad?” 

He bent over him again and stroked him — but 
the dog would have none of it. For a second time 
he ran out to the sidewalk and looked back at Larry. 
Larry started down the steps of the porch to see if 
there was anything in the street. “ Got a cat up the 
tree?” he asked. 

When Spac saw Larry coming toward him, his 
tail began to wag joyfully and he trotted off briskly 
down the street. Larry stopped and the dog 
stopped and looked at him. 

“ Well, whatever it is you’ve got, it isn’t right 
here, is it? I believe I’ll follow you. You’re ab- 
solutely the wildest thing I ever saw. Wait until 
I get my hat.” He went in to the house, Spac de- 
jectedly following him to the porch and beginning 
his campaign all over again. 


To the Rescue! 


77 

But when he saw Larry with his hat on, he seemed 
to understand and struck into a lively pace, barking 
only occasionally, and looking around now and then 
to see that Larry was still following him. 

It was an adventure to Larry. He hadn’t the 
slightest idea that his action was important one way 
or the other; that is, he had not until it became evi- 
dent that the dog was on his way to the mine. Then 
he quickened his footsteps. The dog, too, increased 
his speed, and soon boy and beast were running over 
the uneven ground of the mine property. 

A glance through the big door of the mine showed 
Larry at once what had happened. The first big 
room was half filled with fallen earth and rock, and 
the rotten beams which protruded from the debris 
told the story. 

Larry was quick to act. With the dog at his 
heels, he ran down to the little building where Jake 
had his quarters. He found the old man dozing in 
a corner on a pile of straw. He shook him roughly. 

“Pegleg! Pegleg!” he cried. “There’s been 
a cave-in at the mine and Marty’s up there, I think. 
You’ll have to come and help.’’ 

Pegleg blinked stupidly and got to his feet. 
“ Cave-in? Cave-in? In th’ mine?” 

“ Yes! Hurry and get your lantern.” 

Pegleg rarely hurried, but with Larry’s prodding 
it was not many minutes before they were at the 
scene of the accident. 


78 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Is there any way of getting into the tunnel that 
is now blocked off? There is just a chance, you 
know, that Marty might be on the other side.” 

“ Urn,” Pegleg grunted, “ there’s a way.” 

“Well, show it to me. Quick! We’ve not a 
second to lose.” 

“ I dunno why I should be a-helpin’ y’u out,” Peg- 
leg protested. “ Y’ ain’t never been s’ good to 
me. 

“ Can’t stop to argue about that,” Larry insisted; 
“ this is a matter of life and death, maybe. Just 
get busy and show the way.” 

Pegleg obeyed, but sullenly. He led Larry up 
over the hill above the mine, across rough patches 
of stubble grass and rock, until they came, perhaps 
two hundred feet away from the mine’s opening, to 
a hole twenty or thirty feet deep. 

“ Tha’s the place,” Pegleg said. “ Y’u’ve got to 
ge’ down to the bottom ’n’ then crawl on your knees 
through them bushes int’ tha’ little hole. After 
y’u’ve crawled a ways y’u’ll be in the tunnel.” 

“ That’s not a very bad place to get down into,” 
Larry said. “ I’ll go down first.” 

“ Y’u’ll go down ’lone. I ain’t a-goin’,” Pegleg 
put in. 

But Larry did not hear him, for already he was 
clambering down the shaft, a comparatively easy 
thing to do because of the gradual slope of the sides 
and the many vines and roots to cling to. The open- 


To the Rescue! 


79 

ing was twenty-five feet across at the top but not more 
than six feet at the bottom because of the many 
slides of earth which had filled it in. 

Although Larry made good progress, Spac made 
better. He was down ahead of Larry, sniffing 
around curiously at the bottom and finding almost 
at once the little opening Pegleg had described lead- 
ing through a maze of underbrush into the tunnel. 
Through this the dog shot like a streak. 

A moment later Marty, sitting dejectedly in his 
black corner of the tunnel, heard a rustle beside him, 
and then a cold nose was stuck in his face and a joy- 
ous bark almost split his ears. 

“ Spac! ” he exclaimed, hugging the dog to him. 
“ You here?” 

Spac licked his face as if to make his presence even 
more sure, and then coming toward them Marty saw 
a light and Larry. 

“Marty, are you all right?” Larry called out 
anxiously. 

“ Oh, Larry, I might have known you’d find me.” 
The boy hugged the older lad in a burst of relief. 

“ Thank God I did! But come to think of it, I 
didn’t. It was Spac ! ” Larry laughed to hide his 
real feeling. 

“ Spac?” 

“ Yep.” 

Followed hurried explanations, cut off finally with : 

“What time is it?” 


8o 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Seven-forty.” 

“ Is that all? Then it isn’t too late for the play. 
Show me how to get out of this hole and I’ll estab- 
lish a new cross-country record. Oh, for a breath 
of real air ! ” 

They hurried through the tunnel into the shaft 
and climbed up above ground. 

“ You’ll be going home first, won’t you? ” Larry 
asked. 

“ No, not if you’ll stop and straighten things out 
with mother. I expect she’s nearly crazy. I can 
save a good quarter of an hour if I go direct to the 
theater.” 

“ Sure, I’ll see her.” 

“ Tell her I was delayed in the mine, that’s all. 
No use of worrying her to-night with the accident. 
And tell her also to hurry to the theater if she doesn’t 
want to miss the first act.” 

Mrs. Kelly was, as Marty had surmised, alarmed 
at his absence. His nonappearance at supper time 
had been strange enough, and as the minutes passed 
her anxiety had increased, until at seven-thirty she 
had been nearly beside herself with uneasiness. She 
had just about decided to go out and telephone to 
Professor Newcombe when Larry dashed in with his 
message. 

“ Just like him,” she cried impatiently when Larry 
had run on, “ to insist on finishing a job he’d started 
no matter what might happen.” But her relief that 


To the Rescue! 


he was all right — for she had begun to have fears 
for his safety — was so great that by the time she 
had reached the theater she was in just the mood to 
enjoy the play to the full. 

The curtain was rung up only half an hour late. 

“ Very prompt indeed,” said the friends of the 
sophomores in the audience. “ One always expects 
these amateur performances to be so late in begin- 
ning.” 

Such a performance as it was ! It was played with 
the abandon of youth, tempered and governed by a 
coach who had had many years of experience with 
school plays. 

Marty was an especial delight. “ You’ve got the 
idea to perfection,” Dr. Goddard said to him as he 
came off after one scene. “ Sort of a blending of 
comedy and pathos. Keep it up, old man.” 

And Marty kept it up, though he felt that his 
smiles and his quips were a mockery — to have to 
act funny when he felt so little like it; oh, it was ab- 
surd ! But he had determined that his own personal 
misfortune should not mar the happiness of others, 
and even his mother in her fifth-row orchestra seat, 
radiating pride in her boy, would have been amazed 
to have heard that he did not feel as carefree as he 
seemed. 

“ She Stoops to Conquer ” that night had one in- 
cident in it not in Goldsmith’s version. In the half- 
darkened garden scene, near the end of the play, the 


82 Marty Lends a Hand 

actors, who had been watching the performance from 
the wings, were amazed to see a little brown dog 
walk out before the footlights quite unconcernedly 
and sniff first at one person and then at another until 
he finally encountered Marty! He sniffed again, 
and then looked up at the strangely appareled figure 
before him and then sniffed again. Just at that mo- 
ment Marty spoke, the lines of Tony Lumpkin to be 
sure, but what were mere words to Spac ! He knew 
the voice and all doubt vanished. With a joyous 
wiggle he planted himself right by his master. 
Though they might try to confine him in the dressing 
room, there were ways of escaping, especially if 
the door was not always shut very tight, and the 
owner of that voice was not going to get out of his 
sight again that night! 



He sniffed again and then looked up at the strangely 
appareled figure before him . . . 






























i 











7 


k* 



























9 







9 









♦ 


. » 


* 



























I 











CHAPTER IX 

AWAY WITH THE RUINS ! 


HE curtain had gone down for the last time on 



A the sophomore production of “ She Stoops to 
Conquer ” and the players were standing around the 
stage, their own satisfaction in the performance re- 
flected on their faces. 

“ Oh, wasn’t it too splendid for anything? ” 
Wilda Bennett curtsied much as she had when she 
brought the play to a close. “ Just think, it’s all 
over! No more plays until next year. I do hope 
the same cast can give the junior play.” 

“ Want to make it a closed corporation, do you? ” 
Bert Simmons chided. “ Well, we’ll see what can 
be done about it. We sure did have a jolly time — 
and so did the audience, I guess. I know I’ve pretty 
nearly bowed my head off in these old curtain calls. 
How many did we have anyhow — seven? I don’t 
think much of curtain calls.” 

“ Oh, I do,” Alice Fielding said, “ I love ’em.” 

“ That’s the girl of it. Always wanting to parade 
and look pretty.” 

“ Now, not another word,” Wilda interrupted. 
“You were pretty excited when you thought you 


84 Marty Lends a Hand 

weren’t going to get in on that last curtain call. 
Remember how he came running back to the stage 
all out of breath? Oh, no, you don’t like curtain 
calls, not at all.” 

They all joined in the laugh at Bert’s expense. 

“ Well, have it your own way,” he said. “ But 
before you scatter I’ve something to say to you.” 

“Hear, hear! speech, speech!” Hen Elliott 
cried out, and brought a box which Bert obligingly 
mounted, his fancy costume and the costumes of his 
associates adding to the picturesqueness of the scene. 
He might have been a young squire of the sixteenth 
century about to entertain his peers with a humorous 
account of his recent visit to London — but instead 
he was a very modern boy heartily in earnest. 
Those who had been expecting some bit of nonsense 
stopped their own fooling when they saw the serious- 
ness of his face. 

“ You all know,” he began, “ that Marty was late 
to-night, but not many of you know why. I’m going 
to tell you. Larry Reed came in after the second 
act and told me.” 

Briefly and dramatically, Bert described Marty’s 
plans for growing mushrooms. He dwelt on the 
hard work that had gone into the project and the 
high hopes that had been entertained for it, and 
finally described the cave-in which had not only 
buried the beds underneath a mass of earth and tim- 
bers, but had nearly cost Marty his life. 


Away with the Ruins! 85 

“ Had Marty been a few feet from the spot where 
he was when the crash came,” he said, “ we can all 
see what would have happened. But far be it from 
me to dwell on the gruesome ! Instead I say three 
cheers that he was where he was and three cheers 
again that he’s got so much grit! It took a lot of 
nerve on Marty’s part to go through the show to- 
night after such an experience and especially when 
he realized that he would have to begin his mush- 
room farming all over again. 

“ Now, then, I’m coming to the point of this ora- 
tory. To-morrow is Saturday. None of us have 
to go to school and I make the suggestion that we 
who have been playing ‘ She Stoops to Conquer ’ 
turn in and help conquer that old copper mine. If 
we went up there and got busy, all of us, we’d make 
light work of what would be heavy for Marty alone. 
Who’s with me? Don’t know yet what we’ll have 
to do, but Marty’s going to grow mushrooms some- 
how, and it’s up to us to show him that we appreciate 
his sticking by us when he didn’t feel like it. Did I 
hear anybody say he’s going?” 

“Only hes? Can’t any shes go?” Wilda Ben- 
net laughingly inquired. 

“ That’s the spirit ! Let’s make it a regular 
party,” Bert rejoined heartily. “ We’ll get Dr. 
Goddard and Mrs. Bennett — she’d go, wouldn’t 
she, Wilda? — and all the lads and lassies of the 
show. What say you? ” 


86 


Marty Lends a Hand 

A roar of approval greeted the question. 

“Bright and early, then! How early, Marty, 
will you be on hand?” Bert turned to where 
Marty had been standing, in back of him, but he was 
no longer there. “ Well,” he continued to his au- 
dience in confiding tones, “ let’s get up there, say 
by nine o’clock, and have the whole day at it.” 

“ Bert, you’re a brick. I think it’s just splendid. 
I forgive you for all the awful things you’ve done 
in the past for thinking of this,” Wilda said, as Bert 
jumped down from his pedestal. “ Won’t it be great 
sport? Whoever would have guessed the trouble 
he’d had to have seen him act to-night! He was 
wonderful.” 

“ Now don’t praise him too much,” Bert replied 
good-naturedly, “ or I’ll just naturally smash the 
whole scheme to bits. You can say as much as you 
like about me, but only a little bit, a little teeny weeny 
bit, about him.” 

“Well, then, I’ll say again that you’re horrid, 
Bert Simmons ” — but Wilda laughed as she walked 
away from him. 

When Marty caught the trend of Bert’s speech 
he fled from the scene. He didn’t like hearing his 
own praises sung and, besides, there was an uncom- 
fortable lump in his throat that would have given 
him trouble if he had had to speak. When Bert 
told him, after it was all over, what had been done 
he grasped his hand and stammered, “ Thank you. 


Away with the Ruins! 87 

It’s fine of the bunch and I appreciate it. I don’t 
know what there will be to do. I haven’t seen the 
wreck and it may be hopeless.” 

“ Nothing is hopeless,” Bert, who seemed to have 
acquired an amazing optimism, replied. “ There 
must be some dark holes left up there in the mine, 
and that’s all you need to grow mushrooms in, isn’t 
it — dark holes? We’ll brace ’em this time so they 
won’t squash in.” 

It was a gay party that gathered at the copper 
mine the next morning and awaited Marty’s arrival, 
for the boys and girls who were taking the oppor- 
tunity of serving their friend as an excuse for a grand 
lark were on hand a good half hour before the mine 
lessee himself. He- saw them all as he came in sight 
of the property — Dr. Goddard and Mrs. Bennett 
and Wilda and Alice Fielding and Bert and the boys 
of the tavern and yes — even Hen Elliott ! 

“ I didn’t expect to see him,” Marty thought. 

“ Hello ! ” he called out as he came within hailing 
distance. “ Have you been in to look at things?” 

“Look at nothing,” Bert called back. “We 
haven’t cat’s eyes. Hope you’ve got a few lanterns 
around here somewhere.” 

Soon the entire party was inside examining the 
extent of the accident. One of the beds was wholly 
uninjured; a second was half covered with fallen 
rock and earth, the third was completely buried. 


88 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ There’s where the trouble was, right over that 
tunnel,” Dr. Goddard observed. “ The break came 
just where the little tunnel comes into this bigger 
cavern and the earth rushed down for a few yards 
into the small tunnel and a few yards into this cham- 
ber. See? One rotten beam did it.” 

“ You don’t think any one had a hand in this, do 
you, Dr. Goddard?” Marty asked. “I mean you 
think it was a perfectly natural accident, that no- 
body loosened the timbers or anything like that?” 

“ It doesn’t look so to me. That beam down 
there is rotten, you can see, and the break is ragged. 
But why do you ask? You sound like a melodrama. 
Any one would think you had lots of enemies.” 

“ Oh, no, I just wondered — you imagine strange 
things sometimes. I am glad you think it was noth- 
ing but the work of Father Time.” 

“ Of all spooky places,” Alice Fielding said in 
nervous, high-pitched tones, “ I think this is the 
worst! Let’s get to work. What are we girls 
going to do?” 

“ You girls can go right outside and start the 
luncheon.” 

“ Why, it’s only ten o’clock! ” 

“ Yes, yes, I know,” Bert assented, “ but if you 
start it now it ought to be ready by noon. Find a 
nice place, fix your table, and do everything by your- 
selves for once. That’s all we brought you along 
for — to feed us.” 


Away with the Ruins! 89 

Oh, very well, and I’ll see to it that you get 
only bread and water, just for that! Come on, 
girls. Wilda led her friends out of the mine and 
soon had them engaged in preparing a feast that was 
to be a memorable one. 

Marty would not allow any one to touch the 
“ ruins,” as he called them, until Professor New- 
combe arrived. Fortunately, for the boys were be- 
coming very eager to start, the professor came only a 
few minutes after the girls had withdrawn. 

“ This isn’t so bad,” was the professor’s verdict 
after he had looked around. “ I thought from the 
message I got last night that it was much worse than 
it is. We can soon straighten this out.” 

“ Is it perfectly safe in here now, do you think? 
We don’t want to be the basis for a newspaper story 
headed, ‘ Buried Alive ’ or anything like that. I’m 
not a coward, I believe, but oh, you dirt! ” Bert 
shook his finger warningly at the top of the tunnel. 

At that they gave the inclosure a careful examina- 
tion, testing all the beams and crosspieces, and look- 
ing for possible sources of future trouble. 

“ Everything seems to be all right,” Dr. Goddard 
announced when he had completed his tour of inves- 
tigation. “ Now, then, it’s up to us to put in a 
new beam where that old one has given way. 
Then when we’ve got that placed, and have put in 
other reenforcements against further slides, we can 
remove the dirt and rock from the mushroom beds. 


90 Marty Lends a Hand 

It won’t have hurt them at all, will it, professor? ” 

“ I think not seriously,” Professor Newcombe as- 
sured him. “ We’ll have to take the spawn up and 
plant it again, in one bed, but it was only put in yes- 
terday, and it won’t do a bit of harm to move it.” 

And so they fell to, a dozen strong, and a jolly 
time they had of it, joking and laughing as they 
worked. When the luncheon call came they were 
so nearly through with their task that they decided 
to finish it before they ate. 

“ I always did hate to get cleaned up,” Bert ex- 
plained, “ so many times a day. If we stop now 
we’ll have to scrub and then we’ll have to scrub again, 
later. Let’s buckle to. Another hour ought to do 
it.” 

They kept at their work without intermission un- 
til nearly three o’clock. Then, almost as one man, 
they stood up and breathed a giant sigh of relief — 
and a happy sigh. The beds were spread out be- 
fore them in all their first beauty. 

“ No one would ever know anything had hap- 
pened to look in here now,” Marty said. “ Fel- 
lows, I can’t thank you, but you know how I feel 
about it.” 

“Hungry? Is that the way you feel? Well, 
that’s me ! ” Bert led a dash to the outer air. 
Hen Elliott hung back, and put a detaining hand 
on Marty. 

“ Marty,” he began, “ I’m sorry for what I did 


Away with the Ruins! 91 

— before, you know. I’ve been sorry ever since. 
I didn’t know as you’d want me to come here this 
morning, but I thought I’d take a chance. You 
didn’t mind, did you? ” 

“ No, I didn’t mind ” — coolly. 

“ It was a rotten deal I gave you before and I 
know it and I apologize. Can we be friends 
again? ” 

“ I suppose so — ” 

Hen hesitated, and then without further words 
went out of the mine and joined the others. Marty 
followed him. 

The girls had spread the cloth under a tree some 
little distance from the mine entrance, and on the 
improvised table was set forth a most appetizing 
array of food which the hungry “ miners ” attacked 
with avidity. Never had sandwiches tasted better, 
never lemonade so refreshing. 

“ Do have another sandwich, Marty,” Mrs. Ben- 
nett urged. 

“ Thank you, I will; it’s my thirteenth.” 

“ You’ll have to have still another one, then,” 
Alice Fielding put in. “ It would never do to stop 
with thirteen.” 

“ Only one more? ” Bert inquired. “ I expected 
to have at least two more, and I think I’m ahead of 
Marty.” 

But in time the appetites were satisfied, though 
Mrs. Bennett began to have misgivings as to 


92 Marty Lends a Hand 

whether they would be or not with the stock of food 
at her command. 

“ I have one more sandwich, one piece of cake, 
and one apple left,” she announced. “ Who’ll eat 
them?” But not a consumer could be found. 

“ Well, we’ll have to kiss the cook, anyway,” 
Wilda said, pressing her face against her mother’s, 
“ because even if we didn’t eat everything we pretty 
nearly did. Now, then, you men clear out while 
we pick up and pack up ! ” 

The boys were only too glad to obey Wilda’s com- 
mand; there was much to interest them in that im- 
mediate locality. They scattered in every direction, 
in groups of twos and threes and singly. Some 
clambered down to the meadows in search of possi- 
ble muskrats, others went back to the mine, or vis- 
ited the old, open shafts, or simply loafed around 
under the trees, swapping stories. 

Professor Newcombe and Dr. Goddard were thus 
engaged, happily recalling the old days, when Bert 
Simmons and three or four very much excited young 
men rushed up to them. Bert flourished a handbill 
in front of Dr. Goddard and cried: 

“ Just look at this. I found it right out there. 
Read it, read it, read it! ” His words tumbled out 
almost incoherently in his haste. 

Dr. Goddard took the paper from the boy’s out- 
stretched hand and began to read aloud: 

“ 1 Resist the Draft — ’ ” 


93 


Away with the Ruins! 

He stopped abruptly and hurriedly scanned the 
sheet. Then he sat bolt upright. “ Why, this is 
sedition,” he said. “ It’s pro-German.” 

Several others came up. 

“What is it? What have you found?” 

“ Young Simmons here,” Dr. Goddard explained, 
“ has come upon a circular that could only be the 
work of an anarchist, a German agent, or a crazy 
man. When a country is at war it doesn’t do to 
print documents advising people to rise up and over- 
throw the government. That’s practically what this 
sheet does. We’re at war with Germany — here’s 
something that tells us not to do what our leaders 
have decided it is necessary to do to beat Germany. 
There’s a long term in prison — and perhaps worse 
punishment — waiting for the author of it — if he 
is ever discovered.” 

Exclamations of dismay and disgust greeted the 
crudely printed slip of paper as it was handed from 
one to another in the group of irate young folks. It 
was at last returned to Dr. Goddard, who carefully 
put it away in his inner coat pocket. 

“ That goes to the town authorities Monday 
morning,” he declared. 

But though it was out of sight, it was not out of 
mind. It remained the only topic of conversation 
for the rest of the afternoon. 

“ Who was responsible for it? Who could have 
brought it to the mine ? What would happen when 


94 Marty Lends a Hand 

Dr. Goddard turned it over to the police? ” — these 
questions were still being asked when they started 
for home. 

“ And just think,” Wilda said, her eyes snapping 
as she turned and took a last look at the mine as 
they were leaving — “a spy may have been right 
around where we were. Why, he may some time 
have eaten his lunch under the very tree we ate ours 
under. Isn’t it awful, perfectly awful ! ” 

And they all agreed that it was. The mine had 
taken on a new and sinister aspect. 


CHAPTER X 


UNDER SUSPICION 


HE following Monday morning went down in 



1 Westvale’s history as “ the white morning.” 
While Marty and his friends had been horrified at 
the import of the circular which chance had thrown 
in their way, they had little idea that they were on 
the threshold of one of the biggest and most harrow- 
ing surprises that had ever come to the town in which 
they lived. 

The early risers that day in Westvale, on their way 
to work, rubbed their eyes and looked again. Little 
groups of them could be seen all along the main 
streets, standing in front of the signboards which 
usually displayed harmless enough advertisements, 
but which now, out of white backgrounds, flashed 
black and ugly words. 

The crowds augmented; no one seemed to be pro- 
ceeding to any destination. Men, women, and chil- 
dren stood around and talked in loud voices. In 
one of the more congested districts it almost seemed 
as if there was danger of a riot. Here a man had 
mounted the doorstep of a building adjoining a va- 
cant lot in which there were several signboards, and 


95 


96 Marty Lends a Hand 

was denouncing vigorously the perpetrators of the 
deed. 

“They’ve brought disgrace upon the town; 
they’ve made us out a bunch of slackers, the friends 
of Germany. Can any of you read that poster and 
not want to lay hold of those responsible for it? ” 

He pointed dramatically to the billboard by his 
side and read off the words that glared forth from it, 
punctuating each with a vigorous sweep of his out- 
stretched hand: 

“‘Resist the draft. If others want to fight the 
Germans let them. Why should you? What have 
they ever done to you? Conscription is not Ameri- 
can. Resist it? ” 

The speaker looked at the people before him. 

“ Whoever,” he went on, “ conceived that poster 
had the brains of a pygmy. Conscription is Ameri- 
can. It calls for service from the rich and the poor 
alike, and as for the question, ‘ What has Germany 
done to you ? ’ — Bah ! That isn’t worth answering. 
If you see a big ruffian beating a girl, do you pass 
by or get out after the brute? If you are a man 
you don’t stay on the sidewalk. 

“ Now, then, down with the signs! All together, 
boys ! ” 

The crowd made a rush, and there was the sound 
of splintering wood as the signboards crashed to the 
ground. 


97 


Under Suspicion 

Similar scenes were being enacted throughout the 
town, for every district had been well papered with 
the large, white sheets with their venomous mes- 
sage. 

Down in the city hall there was little less excite- 
ment. Officials were running about asking one an- 
other what could be done, expressing fear that blood 
would be shed, urging adequate police protec- 
tion, even advocating the calling out of the Home 
Guards. 

Into the office of the chief of police about nine 
o’clock rushed Dr. Goddard. “ Have you got the 
culprits? Do you know who is responsible for this 
outrage?” he demanded. 

“ No, no, no,” wearily answered the chief for 
the hundredth time. “ We know nothing about it.” 
Then catching sight of his questioner he brightened 
up. 

“ Oh, it’s you, is it, Goddard? I thought it was 
another reporter. How news does spread! There 
have been a dozen here from Newton City and all 
around. To have such a thing as this happen in our 
town just as this big draft call comes ! — It’s too aw- 
ful!” 

“ I think I may have a bit of evidence that will 
help you.” Dr. Goddard reached into his pocket 
and took out the circular which had been found the 
Saturday before, opened it up, and spread it out on 
the officer’s desk. It was an exact replica, many 


98 Marty Lends a Hand 

times reduced in size, of the posters which had 
turned Westvale into bedlam. 

“ That was found Saturday on the grounds of the 
old copper mine,” he said. 

“ Good Lord, man ! Why didn’t you bring this 
to us right away? We might have prevented this 
catastrophe,” the chief cried. 

“ It was fairly late Saturday afternoon,” Dr. God- 
dard replied, “ when we found it, and I thought it 
would do just as well to report it on Monday. I 
planned to stop in with it on my way to school. I 
didn’t foresee anything like this, of course. I real- 
ize now that I ought not to have lost a moment.” 

The chief grunted his disgust. “ Well, no help 
for it now. The copper mine, you say? What 
were you doing there? ” 

Briefly Dr. Goddard explained about the mush- 
room experiment and the reason for Saturday’s ad- 
venture. 

“ Humph ! There is something doing in that 
mine — don’t you think so? ” 

“ It looks that way,” Dr. Goddard agreed, “ or 
at least that the mine is visited by those who know 
of this seditious work.” 

“ Your tip is valuable. I’ve called in Langley, 
a private detective of Newton City, to help us out. 
He’s waiting for orders. I’ll get him and his squad 
on the job at once.” The chief nodded and abruptly 
left the high-school professor, who was not at all 


Under Suspicion 99 

satisfied with the part he had played in the affair. 

Marty had shared in the town’s excitement ; in fact, 
he had himself helped to rip down three billboards 
and had supplied the match to the bonfire which they 
had fed. Then, when all was quiet and not a vestige 
of the offending literature remained, he decided to 
take a run up to the mine before he reported to 
Professor Newcombe for work. 

He found everything there, apparently, as he had 
left it, and was about to return to his home when 
Spac, who had disappeared into one of the smaller 
tunnels, began barking. Marty whistled to him, 
but the dog would not come, which was so unusual 
that Marty decided to investigate. Taking up his 
lantern he started down the tunnel. He had not, 
so far as he remembered, ever been in this particular 
tunnel. Pegleg had warned him against it, had 
dilated on rotten timbers and predicted an early 
cave-in. Strangely enough, it seemed to Marty, as 
he made his way cautiously down it, to be as safe as 
any of the others. In fact, it looked as though it 
had been recently reenforced in spots. 

“ Seems perfectly all right to me,” he said aloud, 
for he had acquired the habit of talking to himself 
in the loneliness of these dark holes. “ Guess I 
could use this for my business if I had to. It’s bet- 
ter than some of the others.” 


IOO 


Marty Lends a Hand 

Spac was not yet in sight, but Marty knew from 
his bark that he could not be far off. 

“ Got a rat in there, old boy?” he called out to 
him. He took two or three steps farther along and 
then stopped from sheer astonishment at the ob- 
jects which had come within the circle of light thrown 
by his lantern. Before him on a platform of boards 
was an old, hand-printing press, surrounded by the 
inevitable litter of waste paper that is always found 
where the art of printing is practiced. And at the 
back there was a pile of newly printed handbills, 
which, at first sight, he saw were exactly like the 
one which had been picked up outside two days be- 
fore. He grabbed up a bunch of them and ran 
through them quickly. Then he threw them down 
and turned to the press where he found a form of type 
still in place, as though the printer, whoever he might 
have been, had left off work suddenly. As he bent 
over the machine examining the letters, there sprang 
out from all sides dozens of men, it seemed, who 
seized him and held him in grips of iron. He cried 
out with fright and with pain, but that and Spac’s 
barking were the only sounds, for these men said 
not a word. With scant courtesy they shoved him 
along before them, through the tunnel back to his 
own mushroom beds, and then out into the open air. 

“ Now, then, my lad, explain yourself.” One of 
the men whirled Marty around and glared at him. 

“ What do you mean? ” 


Under Suspicion ioi 

“ Just what I say. What were you doing in that 
mine and monkeying around that seditious matter? ” 

“ Looking at it — trying to see what it was. I 
never saw it before.” Marty’s voice sounded un- 
natural, even in his own ears. 

“ How’d you come to be in there in the first 
place? ” 

“ I rent the mine, and — ” 

“ You rent it — and you never saw that printing 
press before, right on your own property?” 

“Never!” 

“ Humph ! Most strange ! ” 

“ Oh, come, Langley,” one of the other men who 
had been standing by, silently watching the proceed- 
ings, said, “ he hasn’t anything to do with our little 
game. We’re on the wrong track.” 

“ Think so? Well, you can’t always be so sure,” 
Langley replied. “ Looks a little phony to me.” 

“Why, he’s nothing but a kid,” another put in; 
“ he couldn’t have printed those posters.” 

“ Printed them! You don’t think I did that?” 
Marty broke in. “ You couldn’t think that.” 

“ Maybe you didn’t print ’em — but maybe you 
know something about ’em — helped the printer 
most likely,” Langley surmised. 

“ Oh, but I didn’t ! I didn’t. I — I hated them 
as much as you. Please believe that.” 

“ Aw, let him go,” came another voice from the 
group. 


102 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“No, I sha’n’t do that; I think” — Langley de- 
liberated for a moment — “ I think I’ll take him 
down to Chief Thompson and put the responsibility 
up to him. Can’t take the chance of letting any- 
thing get by, you know. That’s what I’ll do. 
Come along, kid,” and Langley took Marty’s arm. 
“ You men,” he called to those he was leaving be- 
hind, “ stick around up here and see if you can catch 
any more suspicious characters. Probably there’s 
a gang of these here German agents, and sooner or 
later they’ll all be coming back to this hole in the 
ground.” 

A quarter of an hour later, Langley walked into 
the office of the chief of police bringing Marty with 
him. 

“ Our first catch in the old mine,” he announced. 
“ Thought I’d bring him down and let you look him 
over, and decide what to do with him.” 

The chief looked up. “This boy?” he said. 
“ You don’t mean that he had anything to do with 
the posters? ” 

“ He says he didn’t; but I caught him in the mine 
fussing around the printing press and looking over 
some of the literature.” 

The chief turned to Marty. “ Who are you and 
what have you to say for yourself? ” 

“ My name is Martin Kelly. I have hired the old 
copper mine to grow mushrooms in.” 


Under Suspicion 103 

“ Oh, yes, yes, yes,” the chief nodded understand- 
ingly, “ Goddard told me.” 

“ Dr. Goddard knows me and so does Professor 
Newcombe. They’ll tell you I’m honest. Send for 
them.” 

“ I think it’ll not be necessary. Go on with your 
story.” 

“ To-day when I went to look at my mushroom 
beds, my dog ran away into a part of the mine where 
I had never been and began to bark. He barked so 
long that I thought I’d have to go in and see what 
was the trouble. I followed him and came to an 
old printing press way back in a sort of corner and 
surrounded by paper and printed handbills. I 
picked up some of the circulars and was examining 
them when this man and a lot of others jumped out 
at me. That’s all I know about it. I was as much 
surprised as anybody to find that junk in there.” 

The chief was silent for a moment, then, “ How 
long have you been going to the mine? ” 

“ A month or so.” 

“ Have you ever seen anybody else there, any- 
body except your friends, that is? ” 

“ No, that is, nobody but Pegleg Jake. He’s the 
one-legged man who used to take care of the mine.” 

“ Who used to. Isn’t he around there any 
more? ” 

“ Yes, sir, he’s still around. Sleeps in one of the 
old buildings, I think.” 


104 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Um — and you have never seen anybody else 
there? ” 

“ No, but I think somebody else has been there ” 
— and he told of the night when he and Larry 
thought they heard footsteps. 

“ Have you any other information that you could 
give that would be valuable to us in running down 
this mystery? ” 

“ I don’t think so.” 

“ Your father, does he ever go to the mine? ” 

u My father was injured in the factory explosion. 
He hasn’t been out of the house for several weeks.” 

“ Oh, yes, I remember the case.” The chief re- 
flected for a moment and then reached for a tele- 
phone and called a number. 

“ I want to speak to Dr. Goddard. . . . This is 
Chief of Police Thompson. ... Is that you, God- 
dard? This is Thompson. . . . Yes. . . . Our 
detectives have brought in young Martin Kelly . . . 
found him up at the mine. . . . Also found up there 
a printing press and a stack of literature like that 
that’s been posted up all over town. . . . Detectives 
thought Kelly might have had a hand in the work. 
. . . Humph, absurd, that’s what I said, too. . . . 
I’d like to parole him in your custody ... all 
right? . . . Might want him for a witness, you 
know, and would have to make some person like you 
responsible for him. . . . Thank you, good-by.” 

“ You going to let him go? ” Langley asked. 


Under Suspicion 105 

“ Certainly. You may go, Kelly. You are pa- 
roled in Goddard’s custody and must be ready to 
answer any call from this office. If you get further 
information, come to me at once.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Thompson.” Marty started 
out of the office, stopped, and faced the chief. 
“ Will — will my mushroom beds be safe ? They’re 
having an awful hard time growing.” 

“ See to it that those beds are not interfered 
with,” and Chief Thompson turned to Langley. 
“ I shall hold you responsible for them.” 

Langley shook his head despairingly, as Marty left 
the office. 


CHAPTER XI 

HEN INVESTIGATES 

A BOUT the time that Marty was being ushered 
into the police station Hen Elliott was having 
a little excitement all his own up on “ Copper 
Bluffs.” 

The predominating characteristic of Hen was a 
shrewdness peculiar for one of his age. He was, 
as some of his associates frequently put it, “ always 
on the make.” In competition he found the zest of 
life. Had he been of a more robust type he un- 
doubtedly would have gone in for athletics, as the 
element of contest there would have supplied the 
excitement he craved. As it was, his hunger was 
appeased by the play of wits. 

Hen’s intentions were usually of the best. Some- 
times his enthusiasm for gain carried him beyond 
the bounds of honor, as when he had attempted to 
take the mine away from Marty. But he always 
regretted conduct of that sort in his sober moments 
and resolved to hold himself more firmly in hand. 

This instinct of his to study things out for him- 
self came into play with the finding of the seditious 
circular at the mine property the day of the picnic 
106 


Hen Investigates 107 

there. All the rest of that afternoon he thought 
about it a good deal, and when on Monday the town 
was found to have been papered with startling pos- 
ters of the same character he thought about it still 
more. The result of his reflections was a visit to the 
copper mine. 

“ That circular did not just happen to be on the 
mine property,” he reasoned. “ There is a supply 
of circulars like it there, or somebody with those 
circulars has been to the mine. And in either case 
the mine is a mighty interesting place to investigate.” 

So an hour or two before Marty’s arrival Hen had 
appeared on the scene and had made a tour of ex- 
ploration rewarded by his discovery of the printing 
press and the literature. While he was examining 
his find he heard people approaching in the outer tun- 
nel. He quickly extinguished his light, and, crawl- 
ing into a dark hole, awaited developments. From 
their conversation he knew the men to be detectives; 
he listened intently as they hid themselves away in 
different parts of the tunnel, ready to spring out and 
surprise whomever should arrive. He knew when 
Marty came in, and with high-beating heart he saw 
the detectives seize him and carry him off. He had 
been on the point of crying out, but an innate shrewd- 
ness held him back. What could be gained by dis- 
closing his presence? And besides he might get 
himself into serious difficulty. 

Left alone, he did not know what to do. There 


io8 Marty Lends a Hand 

might be other detectives there, and it seemed the 
better part of valor to remain perfectly quiet. Five 
minutes passed — ten — fifteen — a half hour — 
and he had about decided he could stand it no longer 
when he heard a cautious footstep coming in his di- 
rection. A moment later a pale light was flashed 
first to the right and then to the left of the tunnel, up 
and down. The light came nearer, and he was soon 
able to make out the figure of a man, and then an- 
other man, then two more, and finally Pegleg. 
They moved forward noiselessly, catlike, and passed 
the hole where Hen was hiding perhaps a dozen 
feet; then they stopped. 

“ Ach, deyVe gone,” came in guttural tones from 
one of the quintet. “ Glose shave ! Almost like 
rats in a drap ve vere caught. If it had not been for 
dot hole in dot old shaft vhat ve crawled into I don’ 
know vhere ve’d be. How’d you ever come to t’ink 
of dot, Pegleg? ” 

“ When they ha’ th’ cave-in, th’ kid’s frien’ got 
into th’ tunnel by crawlin’ from th’ shaft through 
tha’ hole. I didn’ see why we couldn’ crawl from 
th’ tunnel into th’ shaft.” 

“ Worked out a ’ right,” another in the group said, 
“ but I didn’t like it in that shaft. If they’d taken it 
into their heads to spy around outside and had looked 
down the shaft, they couldn’t have helped seein’ us 
hidin’ there at the bottom and a pretty row there’d 
been.” 


Hen Investigates 109 

“ Veil, vhat are you talking about? Dey didn’t 
look down dot shaft und dey have gone a’ready und 
ve are back in here und it’s all goot! ” 

“ Well, I’ll feel better when I get out of here,” 
another contended. 

“ Ach, vhat a bunch of cowards, all of you,” the 
first speaker said. “ Let’s get to business. Vhat 
are ve going to do? Ve’ve got five und twenty 
thousand circulars here. Shall ve spread ’em to- 
night around? ” 

“To-night!” several said, their horror at the 
suggestion reflected in their voices. 

“ Ya, vhy not? Ve’ve got ’em excited now. 
Let’s keep at it.” 

“ Nothin’ doin’,” came from one. “ If I get out 
of this, no more.” 

“ No more for me,” piped up a second. 

“ Ach, da whole bunch of you can go to blazes. 
I’ll give dem out all by myself if I have to. Any- 
body dot vants to help, can.” 

“ Well, you’d better get ’em out of here as quick 
as you can. Those cops will be back any minute,” 
one who had agreed to help the leader advised, 
“ and then nobody’ll do any distributing. How can 
we get out, Pegleg? ” 

“ No better way,” Pegleg grunted, “ ’n’ through 
th’ little hole again into th’ old shaft. When y’u 
get into tha’ y’u can climb out and get away easy. 
Th’ opening o’ th’ shaft is sort of hid in a lot of 


no Marty Lends a Hand 

bushes and trees and it’s quite a ways from th’ 
mine.” 

“ Veil, let’s get to it, then.” 

They turned and went over to the press, took 
up the circulars and apportioned them equally and 
departed from Hen’s locality, Pegleg leading the 
way. 

As soon as Hen had decided that they were out of 
hearing he got up from his cramped position and 
stretched himself. Then, crawling on his hands and 
knees and keeping to the side of the tunnel so that 
he would not lose his direction in the dark, he worked 
his way back slowly to the larger tunnel and finally 
to the big door which opened into the daylight. He 
stepped out into the fresh air, blinked for a moment 
at the light, and started to run. As he did so, three 
men rushed at him from different points of the com- 
pass, crying to him to halt and brandishing villain- 
ous-looking clubs. Hen was only too glad to stop. 
But before he could say a word one of the men 
shouted out: “ For the Lord’s sake, is this a kin- 
dergarten of crime? How many more boys are in 
there?” 

“ There are not any more in there. They are all 
out in the old shaft. If you’ll hurry we can get 
em. 

“What’s that about the old shaft?” one of the 
men asked. 

“ It’s a little ways over the hill, but you’ll have to 


Hen Investigates ill 

hurry. I heard the whole business; I was hiding in 
there. They’re going to get away.” The sen- 
tences fairly flew from Hen’s lips in his excitement. 
u Quick! I know the way.” 

“ What’d I tell you about this mine?” one of 
the men said; ‘‘nothing but a honeycomb of pas- 
sages. I told you ’twasn’t any use to hang around 
inside. Outside was where we wanted to watch. 
Come on, then, we’ll follow the kid. Lead on, 
boy ! ” 

They started briskly over the hill on the same trip 
that Larry and Pegleg had made the night of the ac- 
cident. Just as they came within sight of the great 
hole in the ground a head rose cautiously from out 
the rim of earth, looked around, and was quickly 
withdrawn. But the searchers had seen it. With 
a shout they rushed forward and, looking down into 
the great excavation, saw four wretches cowering 
there below. 

“ Aha, my fine birds! We have you, have we? 
Very well, let’s see how good you are at climbing,” 
one of the men shouted down. “ Now, then, one 
at a time; up ! You first, there. No, you, with the 
upturned mustache. Come on! Up!” 

One by one they came up. “ We’ve got four, 
anyhow. I wonder if there are any more.” 

“ No, sir,” Hen volunteered, “ there is only Peg- 
leg left. Of course he couldn’t have climbed up, 
anyhow. There is no use trying to find him. These 


1 1 2 


Marty Lends a Hand 

old burrows are his home, and he could live in there 
for a year without getting caught.” 

“ On, then, to the town. We’ll have a new kind 
of parade. You can lead, boy.” 

It was a queer procession that wound through 
Westvale’s streets that afternoon. The excitement 
of the morning had passed, and it was well that it 
had, for the consequences would have been dire for 
the culprits had the angry mob of the forenoon been 
on hand to wreak vengeance on those guilty of bring- 
ing dishonor to the city’s name. When they came 
to the Municipal Building, Hen stepped aside to give 
the bluecoats the right of way, but one of them geni- 
ally pushed him forward. “ These here specimens 
are your present to Westvale,” he said. “ They 
ain’t much to be proud of, but the town’ll be mighty 
glad to have ’em just the same.” 

Chief Thompson heard the story of the capture 
of the plotters through, first from one of the police- 
men and then from Hen; then he had to have it 
all over again, supplemented with further details 
brought out by his own questions. 

“ You have done a mighty good service to your 
town, young man, and I’m proud of you,” the chief 
said when his examination had been concluded and 
the four guilty men led away. “ I congratulate you 
and thank you.” He reached for Hen’s hand and 
shook it warmly. 

It was on this scene that Marty entered. “ Tell 


Hen Investigates 113 

me, is it true? ” he cried out without any formality. 
“ Have they got ’em? I just heard they’d got ’em. 
The men from the mine, I mean ! ” 

“ Yes, Kelly, we’ve got them,” Thompson an- 
swered. 

“ And I’m free? ” the boy asked. 

“ You were free before,” the officer replied. 

“ But am I free from suspicion? ” 

“ Of course. Now go along, the two of you, 
and talk it over,” and Thompson shoved Marty and 
Hen good-naturedly from him. 

Hen briefly recounted the experiences of the after- 
noon. 

“ And you were there when they jumped on me? 
My glory! I’ll never know what to expect in that 
mine now. But I don’t see yet, Elliott, how you 
happened to be there. What gave you the idea? ” 
“ Oh, I don’t know. I got to figuring about that 
circular Dr. Goddard found and was doing a little 
exploring; that’s all.” 

They walked along in silence for a few moments. 
Then Marty spoke: 

“ I don’t think I was very decent to you Saturday 
when you wanted to make up. And now you’ve 
gone and got me out of an awful hole.” 

“ Oh, forget it,” Hen said bluntly. “ I didn’t do 
it to get you out of a hole.” 

“ Well, you got me out anyhow. Are you 
sorry? ” 


1 14 Marty Lends a Hand 

“Sorry? Course not, why should I be ? I guess 
we understand each other.” 

Marty looked at him doubtfully, and then a smile 
lit up his eyes. “ I guess we do, too, Hen,” he said. 
“ Friends is it, then? ” 

“ Yep, friends,” Marty agreed. 


CHAPTER XII 

SETTLING THE ACCOUNT WITH PEGLEG 

“HpHE mine is too little for both Pegleg and me 
X and that’s all there is to it! ” Marty bent 
down and kissed his mother as she sat by the window, 
sewing, the next day. “ Either he goes or I go.” 

“ My, how fierce you are, son — all but the kiss. 
The words don’t fit the deed. But it seems to me 
you’ll have to find Pegleg before you can catch 
him.” 

“ I’ll find him all right. He’s in the mine and 
I’ll lie low until he shows up.” 

“ Oh, but I’m afraid to have you go up there all 
alone if you’re going to fight him — ” 

u I’ll not fight him; I couldn’t fight a cripple. 
I’ll persuade him — with eloquence — that the best 
thing for him to do is to come along with me. 
Maybe I’ll frighten him a little, but, never fear, I 
won’t maul him.” 

u Suppose he should attack you,” Mrs. Kelly 
speculated. 

“ Well, if he does,” Marty rejoined, “ I guess I 
can take care of myself.” 

Mr. Kelly had been an interested listener to the 


1 1 6 Marty Lends a Hand 

conversation. He was gradually taking his place 
in the family circle again. His left arm was still 
useless; in fact, his whole left side was far from 
normal. He was, however, able to walk a little 
with a cane, dragging his left foot painfully after 
him. The doctor said that in time he might re- 
cover the use of both of these limbs and he advised 
exercise and outdoor air. His mind was clear and 
active, and he was confident that ultimately he would 
be, as he put it, “ as chipper as ever.” 

He leaned forward, now, from the quilt-covered 
chair in which he was half reclining and spoke : 

“ What was that, Marty, about the notebook you 
found? I didn’t quite hear that.” 

“ Here it is, dad.” The boy stepped over to his 
father and placed on his knees a little red memoran- 
dum book. “ See, here are the items in it, appar- 
ently an expense account: 

“Large type — $ 8.00 
“ Ink — 2.50 

“ Jake — 10.00 ” 

He turned over three or four more pages. “ And 
here again: Jake $10.00, and again, Jake $10.00. 
Don’t you see, dad? Jake was getting money out 
of them for the use of the mine as a hiding place, 
when it really wasn’t his mine to rent. Just a little 
private graft. That money really belonged to me.” 

“ Ah, but you wouldn’t have taken it, son,” Mrs. 
Kelly said. 


Settling the Account with Pegleg 117 

“ No, of course I wouldn’t have taken it from any 
bunch of German plotters, but it makes me wrathy 
to think of old Jake putting over anything like that.” 

“ Well, just don’t get too wrathy. Remember, 
lad,” Mr. Kelly warned, “ we don’t want anything 
to happen to you.” 

“Never fear, nothing will! I’m not going to 
work at the professor’s until this afternoon; he’s got 
some transplanting he wants done when the sun gets 
low. So me for the mine this morning. I’ve got 
a pet scheme I want to try out.” 

Arrived at the mine, Marty made the rounds of 
his beds, in which as yet he noted no developments, 
and then inspected, very superficially, the neighbor- 
ing tunnels and caverns in which he saw nothing out 
of the ordinary. Coming back to the mushroom 
beds he stood hesitatingly for a moment and then 
spoke aloud, articulating each word carefully: 

“ Well, I guess I can go home now. Everything 
seems O.K.” 

He extinguished his lantern, walked to the door, 
opened it, stood clearly outlined against the daylight 
for a moment, then shut the door with himself on 
the outside. 

The instant the door was shut he started on a 
quick run over the hill to the old shaft. Making 
certain there was no one around, he climbed down 
it to the bottom and, finding the narrow opening, 
cautiously and as noiselessly as possible worked his 


1 1 8 Marty Lends a Hand 

way through it into the tunnel. He reasoned that 
Pegleg was somewhere in the mine, and that he 
would remain out of sight as long as he thought that 
any one else was there, but that when he supposed 
he had everything to himself he would come out of 
hiding. Therefore, Marty had tried to give the 
impression to Pegleg, who, he had felt certain, was 
watching his movements, that he was going home. 
Then by quick action he had got back into the mine 
without having given sign of his return, or so he 
believed. 

With the utmost care Marty felt his way back 
through the tunnel to the place where the cave-in 
had been, which, as it was an intersecting point, was 
a good spot to wait. And he waited, it seemed, 
hours. Then he heard the clump, clump clump ! of 
the wooden leg as it struck the hard-packed earth of 
the natural floor of the tunnel. Pegleg carried no 
lantern. Apparently he thought it the better part of 
valor to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

When Marty figured that he could be only a few 
feet away he reached into his pocket and pulled out 
a flashlight, pressed the button, and turned the glare 
full on Pegleg’s face. 

The streak of bright light coming at him so un- 
expectedly from out of the darkness was, momen- 
tarily, as effective as a pistol shot. Pegleg did not 
know what had happened. He let out a shriek, 
threw up his hands, and fell backward, his cane clat- 


Settling the Account with Pegleg 119 

tering to the ground. He clawed the air frantically 
in an effort to regain his equilibrium and finally 
steadied himself by clutching one of the beams which 
formed a part of the side support of the tunnel. 
Then he looked around, cowering, expecting to see 
at least an army of men. 

“ Now, Pegleg, we’ve got a little account to set- 
tle,” Marty began pleasantly, “ and the place of set- 
tlement will be down at the town hall.” 

Pegleg again looked around, hardly daring to be- 
lieve his eyes. Then, “We? Who’s we?” he 
sputtered. 

“ Oh, it’s just an old score between you and me. 
You haven’t made my life any too pleasant up here 
and I can’t say Pm sorry to have a hand in turning 
you over to the authorities. Come along, now.” 

Pegleg bent over and picked up his cane. 

“ I won’ go, tha’s all there is to it. I won’ go 1 
You can’t make me.” 

“ Oh, I think I can, but I don’t want to have to 
make you, that way. I’d advise you to come. I’d 
hate to sail into an old man like you, but I can do 
it, if necessary, and I would do it, rather than have 
you slip away again. Why, you don’t seem to re- 
alize what you’ve been doing — you’ve been work- 
ing against the government, and in war time. 

“ I workin’ ’gains’ th’ gov’ment? Not I ! Didn’ 
have nothin’ to do wi’ it, nothin’ to do wi’ it.” 

“Oh, tell that to the marines — or to Chief 


120 


Marty Lends a Hand 

Thompson! You might tell it to Hen Elliott, too, 
seeing as he was inside attending one of your meet- 
ings, and then again you might tell it to me, seeing 
as how I have got in my pocket a little red book 
showing that you’ve been receiving all kinds of 
money for harboring these scoundrels in my mine.” 
Marty broke off roughly. “ Come along! Haven’t 
got any time to be talking to you.” 

In answer Pegleg raised his cane. Marty darted 
aside, and at the same time slipped his right hand 
into his side pocket, withdrew it, and pointed it at 
Pegleg, who saw the flash of a nickel weapon under 
his nose. 

“ March or I’ll open this thing up on you ! ” Marty 
commanded. 

Pegleg marched. 

When they stepped out into the daylight, Marty 
replaced his “ gun ” in his pocket, but Pegleg, know- 
ing its presence, made no further show of resistance. 

Marty had suggested to Chief Thompson that the 
detectives watch the mine’s exits from the outside 
only for a day or two, and leave the inside to him. 
“ I’ll land Pegleg, if you do,” Marty had assured 
the chief, “ and ’twould be a certain satisfaction to 
me to do it.” Thompson had good-naturedly agreed 
to the proposal, though he had not expected anything 
to come of it, and had thoroughly expected to turn 
the mine over to his men on the morrow. He was 


Settling the Account with Pegleg 121 

therefore greatly surprised when Marty walked in 
with his captive. 

It was not many minutes before the preliminaries 
were disposed of and Pegleg was delivered over to 
the jailer. As he was being escorted out of the 
room he turned toward the chief and with a malicious 
laugh cried, “ Hey, tell tha’ kid to be careful o’ his 
gun.” 

Before Thompson could interpose a question, 
Marty dug into his pocket and drew out a little rub- 
ber syringe with a nickel tip, such as florists use in 
spraying freshly cut flowers. 

“ Many apologies, Jake,” he said. “ I made a 
mistake. I didn’t have my revolver along, but only 
this little sprayer of Professor Newcombe’s which 
we use in sprinkling the mushrooms — and it’s 
loaded, too.” He squeezed it and a few drops of 
water fell to the floor. 


CHAPTER XIII 


MARTY GOES ON A JOURNEY 
NE day, some weeks after Pegleg’s capture, 



w Mr. Kelly pushed back his chair from the din- 
ner table and, with more emphasis than was his cus- 
tom, said: 

“ And now I’m going up to the mine.” 

The members of his family looked at him in as- 
tonishment. 

“You, father?” Mrs. Kelly gasped. “Why, 
you wouldn’t be good for that long walk.” 

“ I’m going up to the mine,” Mr. Kelly repeated. 
“ I’ve been hearing about that place quite as long as 
I can without seeing it, and the doctor, you know, 
says I must have exercise.” 

“ Let me borrow the wheel chair from the Gra- 
hams and push you up,” Marty suggested. 

“ I don’t see where the exercise would come in 
there, except for you. No, sir-ee, I’m going to 


walk.” 


“ But,” Marty protested, “ it must be at least half 
a mile.” 

“ All of that,” Mr. Kelly admitted, “ but it doesn’t 
make any difference if it’s a mile, I’m going. I can 


122 


123 


Marty Goes on a Journey 

walk pretty well now. I’ll go slow and I may even 
sit down and rest for a while on the curb, but I’m 
going to try it out.” 

“There’s no use arguing when father uses that 
tone of voice, but I’m afraid he’ll be terribly tired.” 
There was, however, a smile about Mrs. Kelly’s lips. 
She was beginning to see some of her husband’s old 
spirit coming back and it made her far happier than 
anything else could. 

So they started out, father and son, that afternoon, 
on the first little journey that Mr. Kelly had taken 
since the accident that had crippled him. The more 
Mr. Kelly walked, the easier it seemed, and half 
the distance had been covered before he ordered a 
halt under the shade of a big tree. 

“ Suppose we’ll find any mushrooms up this morn- 
ing, Marty?” he asked as he settled himself com- 
fortably with his back to the tree’s trunk. 

“ We may; you can’t tell. It won’t be long now, 
anyway, before they’ll be showing themselves.” 

“ Takes quite a while to get ’em started, doesn’t 
it?” 

“ It does take rather a long time, and yet so much 
has been happening that the weeks have passed 
quicker than I thought they would.” 

“ Yes, a lot has happened,” Mr. Kelly mused. 
“You’ve got your mine; you’ve been involved in a 
cave-in; your mushrooms are planted — ” 

“ And you’re getting better,” Marty supplemented 


124 Marty Lends a Hand 

— “ and the German spies and Pegleg are locked up 
where they won’t do any harm for a long, long time 
- — and — I’m learning the horticultural business — 
and—” 

“ Oh, yes, at Professor Newcombe’s. What’s 
new and interesting there? You haven’t told us 
what you’ve been doing these last few days.” 

“ It’s pretty quiet just now. About all I have to 
do is to battle with the weeds. That’s enough, but 
it’s not as thrilling as it might be. I never knew 
weeds could grow as fast.” 

They talked for an hour of many things; of world 
affairs, the war and the United States’ part in it, 
and of personal interests, the mushrooms, and 
Marty’s future. 

“ You know, dad, I’m thinking that maybe I can 
get this mushroom business running so that I can go 
back to school in the fall.” 

“ I’m hoping that too, son, and I believe you can. 
I’m going to be able to work a little, you know. 
Perhaps I can’t go back to the factory, but I can run 
a mushroom farm. And now it seems to me we’ve 
sat here long enough. Let’s be getting on.” 

Mr. Kelly had never been to the mine before, al- 
though he had lived within a short distance of it for 
many years. His interest in it now, in view of the 
developments of the past few weeks, was keen. 
Marty took him through the main tunnel to the 
mushroom beds; he pointed out the scene of the 


Marty Goes on a Journey 125 

cave-in, and then led him into the smaller tunnel 
where the German propagandists had operated. 

u All very exciting to a man who has been shut 
away from things so long,” was Mr. Kelly’s com- 
ment. “ I believe I’d like to operate this mine. 
Who knows, boy, how much you and I might make 
out of it? You have a lease for a year, haven’t 
you? Um-m — better renew it!” 

“ Better see what sort of crops we get,” Marty 
advised. “ You know I’m in debt already for the 
rent.” 

It was about four o’clock when, after a long rest 
period, they started back. They made the return 
trip easily. 

“Nothing the matter with me, is there, son?” 
Mr. Kelly asked proudly as they neared their home. 
“ Guess I’m coming on. Hello, here’s mother.” 

Mrs. Kelly was coming toward them. Marty 
knew at sight of her that something was wrong. 
She was pale and agitated. He attributed this at 
first to anxiety for his father and called out reassur- 
ngly “ Dad’s fine. He’ll be running up there next ! ” 
But as he came up closer to her, he saw that she had 
been crying. “ Why, what’s the matter, mother? ” 
he asked, hurrying to her side. 

“We’ve had bad news—” Mrs. Kelly replied 
unevenly, “. . . a telegram from Mr. Gibbins — 
Cousin Ella is dead.” 

“ Dead! ” Marty echoed. 


126 Marty Lends a Hand 

Mrs. Kelly nodded and tears filled her eyes. 
“ He didn’t tell us about it until the funeral was 
over.” 

“ You didn’t expect he would, did you?” Marty 
flung out. “ I’m surprised he told you even then. 
Must have had a sudden tenderness of heart.” 

“ She died last Thursday,” Mrs. Kelly concluded. 

They made their way silently into the house and 
sat down in the sitting room and looked at each 
other blankly, the same thought uppermost in each 
mind. It was Marty who first voiced it. 

“ Well, I’m glad of it,” he declared. 

“Marty! Glad? What do you mean?” Mrs. 
Kelly looked at him severely. 

“ Oh, I don’t mean I’m glad she’s dead, of course. 
I’m thinking of Betsey. I’m glad that now we can 
have her back.” 

“ Yes, I’m glad for that, too,” Mrs. Kelly agreed 
softly. 

“ We’ve got a little more money coming in now 
than we had when she went away,” Mr. Kelly ob- 
served. 

“ Yes, but even if we didn’t have we couldn’t let 
her stay up there with that man,” Marty maintained. 

“ No, no, of course not. I was just thinking that 
it would be a bit easier, that’s all.” 

“ Somebody’ll have to go up after her,” Mrs. 
Kelly said, “ and I guess it’ll be you, Marty. I 


Marty Goes on a Journey 127 

can’t very well leave the house and the children and 
your father.” 

“ I’m willing. In fact, I’d like to go. Be sort 
of a change. I’d have to be gone two days, wouldn’t 
I? Guess I can get Professor Newcombe to let me 
off that long. I can make up the time by giving him 
entire days.” 

“ Knoll Point is a nice place to visit in the sum- 
mer. You’ll have a pleasant little trip. I was 
there once years ago ” — there was a far-away look 
in Mrs. Kelly’s eyes — “ and it was beautiful ! ” 

“ Might be pleasant enough if it weren’t for Gib- 
bins. I can’t imagine it’d be any fun staying in his 
house. He’d count the granules of sugar you put 
on your oatmeal.” 

“ Oh, I don’t think he’s stingy that way,” Mrs. 
Kelly said. 

“ Well, he looks stingy. Anyhow, I wouldn’t 
want to take a chance on his hospitality too long.” 

“ Poor Cousin Ella, poor Cousin Ella.” Mrs. 
Kelly buried her face in her hands. “ I don’t think 
she lived a happy life.” 

“ Well, you ought to be thankful she’s out of it, 
then;” Marty suggested. “ I’ll bet, if you left it to 
her, she wouldn’t come back, so don’t let’s be weep- 
ing about her. Of course, I’m sorry she suffered 
and all that and awful sorry if she didn’t want to 
die, but somehow I can’t help thinking she did.” 


128 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Marty,” Mrs. Kelly said sternly, “ I don’t like 
such talk. No person wants to die.” 

“ All right, mother, we won’t argue. Instead, 
let’s plan my trip.” 

“That’s simple enough! There’s a train about 
nine in the morning. You can take that. It’ll get 
you to Knoll Point a little after noon. Then you 
can stay overnight and come back the next day.” 

“ All those,” Marty began pompously, “ who are 
in favor of sending Mr. Martin Kelly up to Knoll 
Point on this errand of mercy will please signify 
their intentions. Oh, I’m getting all mixed up; will 
please signify — will please say ‘Aye.’ ” 

He looked around. “ Carried unanimously! I 
go, and I go alone and unarmed into the heart of 
the enemy’s country.” 

But as it happened, Marty did not go alone. 
That night, when he ran over to Larry Reed’s to tell 
him of his plans, Larry at once attached himself to 
the excursion. 

“ I’m taking my vacation a few days at a time,” 
he explained, “ and I’m just looking around for 
something to do to-morrow and the next day and 
perhaps the next, for I’ve three more days coming 
to me. So don’t you want to let me go with you? 
They say there’s good fishing at Knoll Point. I’ve 
never been there, but I’ve heard a lot about it.” 

“ Dee-lighted, I’m sure. Three days, you say? 


Marty Goes on a Journey 129 

I wonder if we could stand the old curmudgeon that 
long.” 

“ Oh, but I’m not going to your cousin’s house. 
There’s probably a little boarding place up there, 
and if you don’t like it with your cousin you can come 
and share my bed and board. I believe in making 
the most of your opportunities. When you’re going 
up into a vacation country, make a vacation of it. 
You’ll stay three days all right, I’ll see to that.” 

“ But my mushrooms,” Marty interposed. 

“ What’s the matter? Are they sickly? Can’t 
they be left alone that long? Why can’t Hen El- 
liott play nursemaid to them? ” 

“ Hen Elliott! ” Marty exclaimed. 

“ That’s what I said. I don’t think it would be 
a mistake to ask him. He learned his lesson be- 
fore, and I know he’d like to be your friend again.” 

“ He certainly helped me a lot in rounding up the 
spies,” Marty said, still somewhat doubtfully. 

“ Suppose we go and see him,” Larry suggested. 
“What would he have to do — anything much? 
That is to say, is there any likelihood he’d have to 
hire a van to cart the fruit away in, before you get 
back? ” 

“ He really wouldn’t have to do anything except 
sprinkle the' beds once in a while and just watch 
things. That’s about all; the temperature and ven- 
tilation, you know. All right, I’ll say Hen Elliott, 
if you do. Let’s go.” 


130 Marty Lends a Hand 

They found Hen in his back yard vainly en- 
deavoring to shine the spokes in the wheels of his 
old bicycle, long neglected. 

“ Is that all you’ve got to do?” Larry asked, 
after watching Hen vigorously rub a very rusty 
spoke. 

“ It’s all I’ve got to do just now, and it’s enough. 
I’ve figured it out that if I spent as long on each 
spoke as I’ve spent on this one it would take me ex- 
actly one year, four hours, and twenty minutes to 
complete the job.” 

“ There he goes ! ” Larry gibed, “ putting every- 
thing on an efficiency basis. Business, business, busi- 
ness! Well, kiddo, we’ve got something real for 
you to do,” and he explained about Marty’s proposed 
trip and put to Hen the request that he oversee the 
mushroom beds during their owner’s absence. 

“ Course I’ll do it, glad to. And can I water ’em 
with the revolver that you threatened Pegleg with? ” 

“ We’ve got something better than that now. 
That took rather too long. You come up to-mor- 
row morning around eight o’clock and I’ll show you 
the process. But be there by eight because my train 
goes at nine.” 

“ I’ll be there!” 

“ Another thing, Hen. Dad may want to go up 
to the mine. He’s taken it into his head to exercise 
lately and he seems to be much interested in the 
mushrooms. You’d help him, wouldn’t you, if he 


Marty Goes on a Journey 13 1 

did want to make the trip one of these days that 
I’m away? Just walk beside him, you know, and 
sort of steady him, that’s all.” 

A hurt look came over Hen’s face which, for a 
moment, Marty did not understand. “ Yes, if he 
wants to go I’ll help him, but he ” — hesitatingly 
— “ he doesn’t need to go ■ — on my account, you 
know,” he finished lamely. 

“What do you mean — on your account?” 
Marty asked frankly. 

“ Oh,” Hen replied, “ nothing, perhaps. I didn’t 
know but you sort of thought that it would be best 
to have your father around watching things on ac- 
count of what happened before? ” 

“ Hen,” Marty said, “ that didn’t happen as far 
as I am concerned. I’ve knocked it right out of my 
recollections! You do the same — and forget it. 
Dad made his first trip to the mine to-day before 
any of us had thought of going to Knoll Point, so 
you see you don’t figure in his operations at all.” 

“ Oh, if that’s the case,” Hen smiled more easily, 
“ I’ll make him do the fox trot up there every day ! ” 

“ I think it’ll be a one-step,” Marty rejoined. 

“ Are you ever going to get through chewing the 
rag? ” Larry interrupted with a show of impatience. 
“ I’ve shined three whole spokes waiting for you two 
fellows to get through.” 

“ You shined three ? ” Hen jeered ; “ which ones ? ” 

“Which ones!” Larry wailed. “Which ones! 


132 Marty Lends a Hand 

He can’t tell the ones I shined. Speaks well for my 
hard work. Here, take your old rag and go back 
to your job. I hear my supper bell ringing, to speak 
figuratively. Besides if we’re going to get that nine 
o’clock train to-morrow, old boy ” — taking Marty’s 
arm — “ we’ve got some few little odds and ends to 
attend to. At least, I have. Farewell, Hen, be 
good to the little mushes.” 

“ And you be good,” Hen sang out as the two 
boys walked away, “ to the little fishes and leave a 
few up there for old Father Knoll.” 


CHAPTER XIV 

AN INTERVIEW WITH GIBBINS 

K NOLL POINT was a snug little country town 
nestling down in the valley of the Clearwater 
River. It derived its name from a slender strip of 
land that ran out from the shore and almost cut the 
river in two. The peninsula, for it was really that 
in effect, was not more than two or three hundred 
feet broad, was beautifully wooded, and was the 
favorite picnic ground for miles around. The town, 
what there was of it, lay at the base of this beckon- 
ing arm. There were half a dozen prosperous 
farms within sight of the tiny railroad station, a 
store and post office, and miles and miles of sandy 
road winding off among green hills. 

“ Certainly some country,” Larry observed as he 
stood with Marty on the station platform and 
looked around with interest. “ I’d like to spend a 
month here. Between fishing and climbing those 
old crags back yonder I think one could have a 
pretty exciting time.” 

“ It does look sort of nice,” Marty agreed. 
“ The river is a peacherino, isn’t it? What is it — 
fresh water or salt? ” 


133 


134 Marty Lends a Hand 

“Must be salt; the ocean is only six or seven 
miles away. Besides, yo.u can tell it’s a tidal river — 
see, there’s where the water comes to at high tide; 
it’s pretty nearly low now.” 

“ One of the first things I’m going to do is to walk 
out on to the Point,” Larry said. “ It looks as 
though you’d be almost in the middle of the river. 
Curious land formation, isn’t it?” 

“ Um,” Marty assented; “ ’tis, but before I in- 
vestigate it I’m going to see old Cousin Henry and 
Betsey.” 

“Righto! Well, go to it. There is your place 
up there undoubtedly! ” Larry pointed up the road 
to a big, white house on which there appeared a 
sign: “Knoll Point Post Office,” and underneath 
this: “ Herman Gibbins, Dealer in Fine Groceries 
and House Furnishings.” “ You go and get your 
little call over, and to spare you the embarrassment 
of my presence I’ll just stroll down here by the water 
for a while. When the preliminaries have been dis- 
pensed with, you can look me up; I won’t be far 
away. And you might ask your Cousin Herman 
where one can board around here.” 

With a wry smile Marty started off up the 
hill. 

“Be of good cheer!” Larry called after him. 
“ Remember, you are a knight going in quest of his 
lady fair.” 

“ Yes,” Marty answered, putting his hand to his 


An Interview with Gibbins 135 

mouth as if to hide what he was saying from some 
unknown listener, “ and like the knights of old Fve 
got to deal wit’h a dragon.” With that he ran 
ahead. 

The post office was closed, and so was the store. 
Marty knocked on the door with his hand until his 
knuckles hurt. Then he went around to the other 
side of the house — the post office was apparently 
at the back — and rang the doorbell. This, too, 
brought no response, and he returned to the post- 
office door and repeated his operations, varying them 
occasionally by rapping on the window. At last he 
heard sounds within and steps approaching. A bolt 
was shoved back, the door opened about a foot, and 
Herman Gibbins’ face appeared. 

“ What do you want? ” he snarled. “ The post 
office isn’t open until five o’clock.” 

Even under the most favorable circumstances 
Herman Gibbins was not the sort of man one would 
take to naturally. He always appeared hard and 
disinterested, but this afternoon the unpleasant qual- 
ities of his personality seemed to Marty increased 
twofold. 

“How do you do, Mr. Gibbins?” Marty said. 
“ I’m not after mail; I — I just came down to see 
you and to get Betsey.” 

Mr. Gibbins started and shot a quick glance at 
Marty. 

“Oh, it’s you, is it? I didn’t recognize you. 


136 Marty Lends a Hand 

You came after Betsey, did you?” His eyes nar- 
rowed until they were mere slits. “ Well — well — 
she isn’t here, so you can’t have her.” 

“She isn’t here?” Marty asked uncomprehend- 
ing^. 

“ No,” Mr. Gibbins replied, “ she isn’t here. 
When your Cousin Ella died, I sent her away.” 

“ Sent her away? Where? ” 

“ Oh, you don’t need to get so excited; she’s all 
right.” 

“ Where is she? ” Marty demanded. 

“ She’s — she’s up in — with my brother’s people 
in Norwich.” 

“Why did you send her up there, Mr. Gibbins? 
Why didn’t you let her come home? ” Marty’s voice 
had risen in his excitement until it rang out clear and 
startling in the country silence. 

“ Come in. Nothing to be gained by standing 
outside and hollering at me.” Mr. Gibbins stepped 
back into the store and Marty followed. The place 
was stuffy and not very light and he would rather 
have stayed outside. Mr. Gibbins sat down on a 
box that had at one time contained, according to 
the glaring labels, ■“ Unexcelled Brand Canned To- 
matoes.” He motioned Marty to another box 
near by. 

“ Now then, boy,” he remarked, “ tell me, in the 
first place, why you think you have any right to 
Betsey.” 


An Interview with Gibbins 137 

“ Any right to her ! ” Marty exclaimed. “ What 
do you mean? ” 

“ Your Cousin Ella adopted her.” 

“ She didn’t do any such thing,” Marty contra- 
dicted flatly. “ She just took Betsey for a little 
while. It was understood that she was to come 
back when we wanted her.” 

“ Maybe you understood it that way; I didn’t.” 

“ But what do you want of her now, anyway, Mr. 
Gibbins? What’s the use of our talking this way? ” 

“ She’d be quite a lot of help to me in another 
year or so,” Mr. Gibbins temporized. “ She could 
wait on customers in the store and hand out the mail, 
and now that your Cousin Ella has gone, I’ll need 
somebody. Betsey could certainly earn her own 
board. That’s what I have been looking forward 
to — the time when she could help me out.” 

“ Mr. Gibbins, she isn’t ever going to help you 
out,” Marty flung out defiantly. “ She is ours and 
you aren’t going to keep her. We’ll go to law.” 

“ Ho, ho, my young cockalorum,” Mr. Gibbins 
sneered, “you’re going to law, are you? That 
would cost money. Besides, I’ve got all the right 
on my side.” 

“ You haven’t a bit of right in Betsey and you 
know it, and I’m going to take her home with me ! 
I’ll go to Norwich and get her! You’ll see! I al- 
ways knew it was a mistake to let her come down 
here. Why did we do it? ” 


138 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Because you couldn’t feed her,” Mr. Gibbins re- 
plied smoothly. “ The whole pack of you pretty 
nearly went to the poorhouse.” 

“ That’s a lie ! But there’s no use talking fur- 
ther to you. I’m going to Norwich. I’ll find Bet- 
sey, never you fear.” 

“ Now don’t go off in such high feather, my lad,” 
Mr. Gibbins said soothingly. “ You know there 
might be one condition on which I’d let you have 
Betsey back.” 

“ And that? ” Marty snapped. 

“ If you paid for her board and keep for the weeks 
she’s been with me. I figure that would be about 
a hundred and fifty dollars, including the clothes 
she’s had. Surely if she can’t work this bill off her- 
self, it’s only just that you should pay it; and right 
now I need money.” 

Marty looked at him contemptuously. “You 
know I haven’t got a hundred and fifty dollars, you 
know I can’t pay it.” 

“ No, I don’t. I thought maybe, from the way 
you were going on, you had come into a fortune. 
Well, those are my terms — pay her board or let her 
stay and work it out. It’s only fair, I say. That’s 
the only reason I ever consented to let Ella take her. 
I saw she might be of some service to me a little 
later.” 

“ I don’t believe Cousin Ella ever thought of it 
that way,” Marty retorted. “ I don’t believe it at 


An Interview with Gibbins 139 

all, I won’t believe it ! And I’m going to get Betsey 
before you can stop me.” He started toward the 
door. “ I won’t ask you where she is in Norwich 
because you wouldn’t tell me, but I’ll find out! ” 

Just then there ran in from the outside a little 
girl, seven or eight years old, with a doll in her 
hands. 

“ Betsey! ” she called. “ Oh, Betsey! ” Catch- 
ing sight of Mr. Gibbins’ face she stopped for a mo- 
ment, and then went on with the innocence of child- 
hood, “ Here’s Betsey’s doll, Mr. Gibbins, I told her 
this morning I’d bring it back as soon as the glue 
got dry. Mamma glued on the wig, you know; it 
was always coming off.” 

Marty turned sharply on Mr. Gibbins. “ Then 
she isn’t away, she’s right here. You saw Betsey 
this morning? ” he asked, catching the small girl by 
the arm. 

“ Yes. She — she said she’d be waiting for me 
out in the back yard after dinner, but she wasn’t out 
there and I thought maybe she was in here. I didn’t 
mean nothing,” she whimpered, “ let me go.” 

Marty released her and she fled from the room, 
crying. 

Marty stood and looked at Mr. Gibbins, but said 
nothing. Finally the silence grew too oppressive 
for the older man. “ Well,” he said defiantly, 
“ what if she is here? ” 

“ If she is here, I want her,” the boy replied. 


140 Marty Lends a Hand 

“What’s the idea of keeping her away from me? 
If it’s only the money, let me have her and I’ll pay 
you all you ask in good time. I can’t give it to you 
now, but I’ll save it up ! I’ll sign a paper. I’ll do 
anything if you’ll only let me have my sister.” 

Mr. Gibbins deliberated. “ I can’t decide now. 
I’ll have to think about it. Maybe I — I would 
take some sort of a promise to pay. You come back 
here to-morrow. I can’t waste any more time on 
you to-day. I’ve got some business to attend to.” 
As he spoke his face darkened. “ You’ll have to 
stay in town overnight, anyhow, on account of the 
trains. There isn’t another one going down your 
way ’til morning.” 

“ And can’t I see Betsey now, just see her? ” 

“ No, you can’t. Didn’t I tell you I had business 
to attend to? Sorry I can’t offer you hospitality 
for the night. Mrs. Burns up the road here, she 
takes lodgers sometimes. She’ll take you in, I guess. 
Go on, now.” He rose and shoved the boy outside. 

Marty heard him bolt the door after him. He 
turned and pounded on the panels furiously, demand- 
ing admittance in harsh, loud cries. But there was 
no response. He stood there uncertainly for a few 
moments longer, wondering what he could do, and 
then, realizing the futility of any action, started down 
the path toward the station. He found Larry wait- 
ing for him on the platform, and in a few vivid sen- 
tences he described the interview. 





n 


If she is here, I want her,” the boy replied 





An Interview with Gibbins 141 

“ Well, he’s a fine specimen of a man, I must 
say! ” Larry observed when he had heard Marty’s 
story. “ But, after all, the child is safe, so I 
wouldn’t be so upset. I don’t see as there is any- 
thing to do except wait until to-morrow and go and 
see him. He won’t murder her in the meantime; 
it’s just a game to get a little money. Cheer up, 
cheer up ! ” 

“ Don’t you think that it would be a good idea to 
hunt up a policeman or whatever it is they have in a 
place like this? Couldn’t he help?” 

“ No, I think it would only make matters worse. 
This Gibbins is the postmaster, he must be con- 
sidered a responsible, law-abiding citizen. I say let 
things slide until to-morrow. Probably the mess 
will then clear itself up. You’ll feel better after 
you have had a good supper. Did the old gink give 
you any idea as to where we might get board? ” 

“ Yes, at Mrs. Burns’, third house up.” Marty 
rose wearily, taking up his hand bag and moving 
off in the direction of the farmhouse. 

They found Mrs. Burns a pleasant-faced, 
motherly sort of woman, who, after a few explana- 
tions on the part of the boys, took them in for the 
night or for a week or for “ as long as you want 
to stay. Sometimes our boarders like it here and 
sometimes they think it’s dead; all depends on what 
you are looking for,” she volunteered. 

Marty did indeed feel better after his supper and 


142 Marty Lends a Hand 

especially after he had confided some of his worries 
to Mrs. Burns and had been assured by her that his 
sister was safe. 

“ Mr. Gibbins is as hard as steel,” she said, “ but 
I don’t think he’d be cruel to a child. He might not 
love her any, but he wouldn’t hurt her. He meas- 
ures everything by money and it might cost him 
something if he hurt her.” 

“ Is Mr. Gibbins popular in Knoll Point? ” Larry 
asked. 

Mr. Burns, a little, red-cheeked Irishman, to 
whom, if appearances counted, life was a glorious 
joke, then took a hand in the conversation. 

“ I should say not,” he declared. “ Can anybody 
be popular who hasn’t got a moment to swap a good 
story or smoke a pipe with you now and then and 
who’s always figuring that if he hadn’t stopped to 
pass the time of day he might have got another row 
of onions weeded or something like that? Why, 
here’s the sort of man old Gibbins is: he’s the only 
farmer in Knoll Point that’s got a Ford. Do you 
believe he takes any pleasure in it? Not he! He’s 
figured out how much gas is used each time the en- 
gine puffs, and if it should ever back-fire I think he’d 
die of heart failure. But as I was telling you, 
here’s the sort he is: he runs this machine of his 
when he gets back from a trip up over the little hill 
into his yard, but the minute he gets it into the drive- 
way he shuts off the engine and gets out and pushes it 


An Interview with Gibbins 143 

for fifty feet or more into the barn ! He calculates 
that that way he saves a gallon of gas in a year. 
A gallon of gas saved, you know, is two quarts of 
beans, and two quarts of beans planted is quite a 
little patch of beans. Beans from that patch planted 
again — oh, you could go on forever, all from that 
gallon of gas.” 

Larry broke in, with a laugh : “ I guess you’re 

jollying us, Mr. Burns.” 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Burns, “ maybe he invented 
some of the details, but he ain’t far off on the gen- 
eral idea.” 

“ Would you mind telling me what you’re doing, 
Mr. Burns? ” Larry asked when there was a pause 
in the conversation. “ What is that thing you’ve 
got? Looks like a rat trap.” 

“This?” Mr. Burns held up a wire cage. 
“ Why, this is an eel trap. I’m going eeling to- 
night. This river is great for eels. Don’t you boys 
want to go along? ” 

“ You bet I do,” Larry replied. “ That’s what 
I came up here for — to see a little fishing. I’ve 
never been eeling. You’ll come too, Marty?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” Marty answered indiffer- 
ently. 

“ Sure you will. Now put your troubles out of 
your mind and come out for a rare adventure. To- 
morrow we’ll straighten this thing out.” 

“ That’s my advice, too,” Mrs. Burns said. 


144 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ You can’t do anything to-night and you might as 
well go out with father and your friend. It’ll be a 
new experience for you.” 

After a little persttasion, Marty agreed and soon 
was engaged with the other two in fixing lines and 
nets and traps. 

“ The traps,” Mr. Burns explained, “ we’re just 
going to set and leave — but if we’re lucky we’ll 
catch a dozen or so good fellows with hooks. If 
we don’t get any that way we’ll try spearing ’em.” 

“ How soon are we going? ” 

“ As soon as it gets dark. The darker it is the 
better for eeling, you know.” 

“ That’s the funny part of it,” Mrs. Burns put 
in. “ It has to be dark, but you carry a lantern and 
light things up ! Sort of foolish, it seems to me.” 

“ Mother, how many times have I explained that 
to you?” Mr. Burns remarked, with an elaborate 
show of impatience he did not feel. “ When it’s 
light all over eels don’t come out of the mud. When 
it’s dark they do. Then if they see a little light they 
come to investigate it. They’re curious critters — 
like women.” 

“Um — um!” Mrs. Burns accepted her hus- 
band’s explanation. “ I’ve heard that before, but 
I still think it’s foolish ! ” 

About nine o’clock all was ready, and with traps 
and lines and spears and a pair of oars the party set 
out. 


An Interview with Gib bins 145 

“ We go just off the Point,” Mr. Burns explained, 
“ in that little cove. We could reach it from the 
land, but somehow I like it better in a boat. Seems 
more like fishing.” 

They got into the little boat and rowed to the 
rocks where the eels were supposed to frolic, and 
waited, as Larry put it, for excitement to come their 
way. 

And excitement came — though hardly of the 
“ eel ” variety they had anticipated. 


CHAPTER XV 

OF EELING AND OTHER THINGS 

“T"XON’T be afraid of using too much clam. 

1 3 Eels have powerful big mouths and are 
greedy critters. Feed ’em well and they’ll swaller 
the hook so sure they’ll never get away.” Mr. 
Burns reached over as he spoke and selected a big 
clam from the bait can and proceeded to embed the 
hook in it. 

Marty and Larry were, for the moment, too in- 
terested in their surroundings to give attention to 
the important task of baiting up. It was dark — 
“ almost as dark,” Marty said, “ as back home in 
the copper mine ” — but a velvety, fragrant dark- 
ness. The water lapped the sides of the boat gently 
and made it sway ever so little; there were myste- 
rious splashes down the river, perhaps of fish leaping 
into the air in wild flight from an enemy; the cries 
of night birds came strangely from the woods on the 
far shore. 

Larry at length summed up his reaction to the 
place : “ I could just stay here for hours wonder- 

ing about each sound. You can imagine such a lot, 
146 


Of Eeling — and Other Things 147 

sitting in a boat in the middle of a river like this, at 
night.” 

“ Well, all I’ve got to say,” Mr. Burns broke in, 
“ is, that the more you speculate, the fewer eels 
you’ll get.” 

“ That’s true ! Well, here goes,” and Larry dug 
into the clam can, Marty following his example. 

As so often happens, luck was with the beginner. 
Marty had just thrown his line overboard and was 
settling himself for another period of quiet reflec- 
tion when he felt a sharp tug on it. At once he was 
all excitement. 

“ I’ve got one, I’ve got one,” and he began to 
haul in frantically. 

“ Never say you’ve got an eel,” Mr. Burns ad- 
vised, “ until you have him in the frying pan. An 
eel is slippery, boy.” 

Marty paid no attention to Mr. Burns’ words, 
but worked away at his line and in a moment landed 
what Mr. Burns at once termed, “ a fine, fat feller.” 

“ Is that an eel? ” Marty held his line gingerly 
between two fingers and examined critically the crea- 
ture that squirmed and twisted at the end of it. “ It 
looks to me like nothing but a snake.” 

“ It’s an eel all right,” Mr. Burns said, “ and a 
beauty. Now, take it off.” 

“Take it off!” Marty echoed, “I should say 
not.” Then he quickly caught himself. “ That is 
— how? ” 


148 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ First of all you must kill him by banging him 
against the side of the boat and don’t be too tender 
with him, because eels are hard to kill. Then, when 
he stops his antics, or pretty near stops, dig down 
into the box under the back seat and take out a 
handful of ashes and — ” 

Mr. Burns’ instructions came to a sudden end. 

“ Jimbo! Got one myself, I guess,” and sure 
enough he had, though, as Larry took pains to re- 
mark, “ Not such a nice one as Marty’s.” 

A few minutes later, Marty, who had been watch- 
ing Mr. Burns, as he took his catch from the hook 
said, “Well, Mr. Burns I was waiting to see what 
you were going to do with ashes and you didn’t use 
any. I’ve been holding my handful here to follow 
you and now you’re fishing again.” 

Mr. Burns laughed. 

“ Well, I’ve been catching eels for twenty years, 
boy, and I can handle ’em without ashes unless 
they’re specially ornery, but for a new hand ashes 
are necessary. Just rub ’em on your hands and then 
take hold of the eel and you’ll find you can hold on 
to him better.” 

Marty did as he was told, and soon the eel was 
lying on the bottom of the boat, and Marty was ex- 
amining with a wry countenance the pasty coating 
on his hands. “ I don’t like the smell,” he re- 
marked. 

“ You want to get used to that,” Mr. Burns coun- 


Of Eeling — and Other Things 149 

seled. “ No matter how much you scrub, you’ll 
have it with you for several days, so make the best 
of it.” 

“ Anything with a hide on it like that isn’t fit to 
eat,” was Marty’s comment. 

“ But you take the skin off,” Larry put in; “ even 
I know that. Haven’t you heard about skinning 
eels? ” 

“ Guess so,” Marty answered, reaching over the 
side of the boat and rinsing his hands in the river. 

“ That’s a mystery we’ll introduce you to a little 
later on,” Mr. Burns announced. “ That calls for 
skill, too, but a real fisherman must know how to 
dress his fish.” 

As they waited patiently for further “ bites,” si- 
lence settled upon them. There was something in 
the atmosphere that induced quiet, and their serenity 
was not broken by further catches. 

“ Guess we caught the whole family of eels,” Mr. 
Burns said underneath his breath, but he did not 
suggest that they stop fishing or change their loca- 
tion. 

A quarter of an hour passed and then there was 
borne in upon them a new sound — at first unde- 
fined, but gradually growing louder and seemingly 
coming nearer. 

Marty looked at Mr. Burns questioningly. 
“ What’s that?” 

“ Somebody rowing out on the river. Probably 


i£0 Marty Lends a Hand 

more fishermen. We can’t see them, because we’re 
here in this little cove and are shut off from the 
river proper.” 

“ See ’em! ” Larry laughed. “We couldn’t see 
’em anyway until they got on top of us. It’s dark, 
I’m telling you.” 

“ Maybe they’re eelers, too,” Mr. Burns observed. 
“They’re about opposite us now — not more’n 
twenty feet away, I should say, judging by the dip 
of the oars, just the other side of that strip of land. 
Perhaps they’re coming in here. If they are they’ve 
got to go up around the Point and down this side to 
that opening we came through.” 

Further speculation as to the intentions of their 
visitors was cut short by voices floating to them over 
the water. The words at first were indistinguish- 
able — but it soon became apparent that it was a 
child, crying, with now and then a harsh word or 
two interposed in masculine tones. 

Marty’s heart beat faster. “ Larry,” he cried, 
“that’s Betsey! I know it is. Oh, Mr. Burns, 
what are we going to do? ” Even in the uncertain 
light of the kerosene lamp, the boy’s agony was 
visible on his face. “ It’s my sister, I’m sure — it’s 
Betsey! ” 

A moment later there was no doubt of it, as there 
came in childish tones to the ears of the three listen- 
ers these words of pleading: 


Of Eeling — and Other Things 15 1 

“ Oh, Cousin Herman, can’t we wait ’til morning? 
I’m so tired. Please, please! ” 

Marty stood up in the boat. “ I’ve got to get to 
her,” he said. “ I’ve got to.” 

“ Sit down,” Mr. Burns commanded, “ and keep 
still.” He had been working fast as he spoke, haul- 
ing in the anchor and putting the oars in the locks. 
“ Blow out the lantern,” he ordered, “ quick! ” 

“ What are you going to do? ” Marty asked. 

“ Follow them,” was Mr. Burns’ short reply. He 
was already pulling on the oars with powerful 
strokes. Then, explaining more fully, he said: 
“ They’ll get up to the Point just about the time we 
get out of the cove. We can then see what their 
plans are, and if they cross over to the other shore, 
as I expect they will, they won’t have much of a 
start on us.” 

“ But why should they be crossing over? ” 

“ There’s a trolley line over there and a station 
about opposite here. Knoll Point don’t have many 
trains a day. If you want to get away after six 
o’clock, the only thing you can do is to row over and 
take the trolley.” 

Soon they were at the end of the cove and were 
slipping out around the bend into the open river. 
Mr. Burns rested on his oars and peered off into the 
darkness. 

“ As I expected. There they go, off yonder. 


152 Marty Lends a Hand 

They’re heading for the Meadeville trolley stop all 
right.” Mr. Burns fell to rowing again with all 
his might. The other boat had progressed in a 
straight line, while Mr. Burns had had to travel in 
semi-circular fashion in getting out of the cove. In 
consequence there was now a considerable distance 
between the two. 

“ We must gain on ’em all we can before they see 
we’re chasing them,” Mr. Burns said jerkily, and 
his boat fairly shot through the water, responding 
splendidly to the skill and strength of one who had 
been brought up on the river. 

“ Probably,” Mr. Burns panted, “ he’s after that 
ten-thirty -trolley. Hope we can get in in time to 
ask him ‘ why? ’ ” 

The boats were, roughly, three hundred feet apart 
and were being propelled at about the same speed. 
Not a word was spoken, though Marty’s quick 
breathing and Larry’s strained, tense position 
showed their excitement. As for Mr. Burns, he 
rowed as he had never rowed before. But it was 
a race between two good oarsmen, for Mr. Gibbins, 
too, had spent all the days of his life in a river town. 
Neither gained perceptibly. 

“ He knows we’re after him now all right, and 
he’s making a desperate effort to get in first,” Larry 
said. 

The words acted as a spur to Mr. Burns, and he 
redoubled his efforts. He gained a foot or two, 


Of Eeling — and Other Things 


153 


he continued to gain, ever so little, it seemed to 
the anxious watchers, hopelessly little, as Mr. Gib- 
bins was now only a few feet from shore, while Mr. 
Burns was at least two hundred feet behind. 

Marty was unable longer to contain himself. 
“Betsey,” he called, “Betsey, it’s Marty — wait 
for Marty,” but there was no answer. He could 
just barely make out the figures in the forward boat, 
a big, dark bulk working away at the oars, and a lit- 
tle, huddled bundle in the stern. “ Betsey, Betsey, 
Betsey ! ” There was a world of anguish in the 
cry. 

The prow of the Gibbins boat struck the sand of 
the shore with the Burns boat still out in the river 
a good two hundred feet. 

“ There they go! ” Marty cried out “ He’s got 
her — they’re going up the hill. Oh, Mr. Burns, 
hurry, hurry, hurry! I can’t see them any more, I 
can’t see them.” 

Mr. Burns was breathing hard. “ A few more 
pulls,” he said unsteadily, “ and we’ll be in.” As 
he spoke there was a sharp snap. “ My God, I’ve 
broken the oar! ” he groaned. He drew it in and 
hastily examined it. The blade had split off “ as 
clean as a whistle.” He seemed dazed for a min- 
ute, and then: “ We’ll have to paddle her in,” he 
said, taking his place at the bow. “ Good thing we 
ain’t got far to go.” 

But the oar was unwieldy, the boat heavy, and Mr. 


154 Marty Lends a Hand 

Burns tired from his exhausting struggle. He made 
slow progress. It took him five minutes to go a 
distance he would have covered before in one. 

Even before the boat was in, Marty was over- 
board, splashing through the foot or so of water to 
the shore and running up the hill in the direction in 
which he had seen Mr. Gibbins disappear. But he 
was just too late. There was the rumble of an ap- 
proaching trolley, the glare of its headlight up the 
road a quarter of a mile, a second’s pause — and 
then the rumble again. Mr. Gibbins had made con- 
nections. 


CHAPTER XVI 

A RIDE THROUGH THE NIGHT 

M ARTY stumbled blindly down the bank to the 
boat. 

“ It’s all over,” he said thickly. 

Mr. Burns regarded him dully, he had hardly 
recovered his breath, the perspiration still stood in 
great beads on his forehead, and he was white 
around the mouth. “Missed it, didn’t we?” he 
muttered. “ Sorry.” 

Marty stepped over to the man who had sunk 
down in the stern of the boat disconsolately and took 
him by the hand. “ Never mind; you certainly did 
your part. Nobody could have done more and I’ll 
never forget it. I felt like a weakling, just being a 
dead weight in that boat, but we only had one pair of 
oars and I’m not very good at rowing.” 

Mr. Burns brightened at Marty’s words of ap- 
preciation. He straightened up. “ I do wish we 
could have got in first. . . .” He struck a match 
and lit the lantern. “ A light makes things look 
more cheerful,” he explained. 

Larry came running down the hill toward them. 
“Well, what’s the next step?” Larry always 
iS5 


156 Marty Lends a Hand 

seemed a source of strength. He was rarely, if 
ever, dismayed. 

“ I don’t see as there is anything much to do ex- 
cept to go back home,” Marty answered. 

“ Might take the next trolley,” Larry suggested. 

“What good would that do? Get you up to 
Norwich about midnight. Where are you going 
to look for the two of them at that hour? ” 

“ Um, m-m! Guess you’re right,” Larry agreed. 
“ But it’s sort of hard to sit tight and do nothing. 
In the morning, though, we’ll have to make things 
hum. Hark! What’s that? Another trolley so 
soon? ” 

“ Can’t be. No, it’s an auto coming along the 
road up there. Looks as though it was slowing 
down. Probably having trouble. I guess it’s 
stopped altogether. Jingo ! This would be a nice 
sort of place to get stalled in ! Give me an old nag 
any time.” Mr. Burns was rapidly becoming him- 
self again. 

But there was no trouble with the automobile, as 
events speedily proved, for, even while the three 
down at the water’s edge were still discussing the 
relative merits of motor and equestrian travel two 
men emerged suddenly out of the darkness. They 
were big, strapping fellows. 

“ Very crude work, I should say,” the first man 
remarked. “ If you hadn’t had your lantern lit I 
wouldn’t have seen you down here at all. Well, 


A Ride Through the Night 157 

which one is Gibbins? I suppose it’s you,” indicat- 
ing Mr. Burns. 

“Gibbins!” Marty and Larry cried. “I wish 
we had him as near as we have got this man.” 

“What do you mean?” the stranger demanded. 
“ Quick! There’s no time to lose.” 

“ Why, simply,” Marty answered, “ that we’ve 
been chasing Gibbins all over this river and he’s just 
got away from lis.” 

“ You chasing him ! What were you chasing him 
for?” 

“ He’s got my kid sister and is running away 
with her and I want her back, but,” and Marty 
stopped suddenly, “ who are you and what do you 
know about Gibbins? ” 

“ Enough,” the other replied sharply. “ But how 
did he get away? Where did he go? ” 

“Took the trolley,” Marty replied, “about ten 
minutes ago, but I’m not going to tell you anything 
more until you tell me who you are.” 

In answer the man drew out from his pocket a 
silver star and held it before Marty’s eyes. 

“ Plain-clothes man! ” Marty gasped. 

The other laughed. “Are you satisfied now? 
My name’s Stevens.” 

Marty nodded. 

“ Well, then,” the officer went on, “ how old is 
this sister of yours? ” 

“ Seven.” 


158 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ How does she come to be with Gibbins?” 

“ He’s my cousin, or at least his wife was, and my 
sister has been visiting them. Cousin Ella, that was 
Mr. Gibbins’ wife, died last week, and I came up to 
bring my sister home and — ” 

“ All right, all right,” Mi\ Stevens broke in, 
“ you can tell me the rest in the car. You’re going 
with me. We might need you to identify this Gib- 
bins. Who are these two others? ” indicating Larry 
and Mr. Burns. 

“ They are my friends,” Marty replied. 

“ You’ll have to leave them here; there isn’t room 
for all. Come along!” Stevens was halfway up 
the path by the time he had finished speaking. 

Marty looked after him hesitatingly. “ Nothing 
to do but go, I suppose,” he said to Larry. 

“ No, and be quick about it,” was Larry’s advice. 
“These fellows can help you. You don’t know 
what they’ve got up their sleeve now, so beat it, 
boy, beat it! Mr. Burns and I will go home — and 
I am going to row back. I’ve never rowed before, 
but I’m going to learn to-night. I’ve helped myself 
to Gibbins’ oars, so we’re good for at least one 
breakdown.” 

“ But there’ll be no rowing for you to-night, lad,” 
Mr. Burns contradicted. u A dark river and bed- 
time and rowing lessons don’t go together.” 

They pushed off. 

“ Good night, Marty. Remember me to Betsey,” 


A Ride Through the Night 159 

Larry called out gayly. “ Suppose I’ll see you both 
in the morning.” 

“ Hope so,” Marty answered, as he followed Mr. 
Stevens. 

The automobile was already purring softly, pow- 
erfully, when he reached it. 

“ Jump in here with me, boy,” Mr. Stevens, who 
was on the back seat, ordered. “ I want to talk to 
you. Tom is going to drive — and drive like the 
devil, too ! ” 

Then began a wild ride through the night, a ride 
that Marty never was to forget. It seemed in after 
years like an impossible nightmare. At a death- 
defying rate, they tore over uneven country roads, 
down hills and up hills, through sandy stretches 
where the car skidded, around bends on two wheels, 
stopping at nothing, fearing nothing. Trees, houses, 
fields, fences all ran together in an indistinct, blurred 
ribbon of dark green of endless length. 

And all the while Marty was supposed to be in 
such a frame of mind that he could answer ques- 
tions intelligently. For Mr. Stevens, seemingly in- 
different to the catastrophe that must inevitably cap 
this mad chase, sat back on the car’s luxurious cush- 
ions as comfortable as the very fickle road would 
allow him to be and asked innumerable questions. 
He asked and he asked and he asked, but he gave 
precious little information himself. All that Marty 
could learn was that they were on their way to Nor- 


160 Marty Lends a Hand 

wich, and that they expected to arrive there in time 
to greet Mr. Gibbins as he descended from the trol- 
ley; but this cool stranger’s interest in Mr. Gibbins 
— that was still unsolved. 

When Marty had become accustomed somewhat 
to the car’s speed and the weirdness of the ride 
through the black country the driver slowed down, 
and about the same time the road became wider and 
smoother and a few moments later they shot out 
onto a paved street and joined the trolley tracks. 
Stevens leaned out of the car and peered anxiously 
in both directions. 

“ You’ve done it, Tom, old man,” he said. “ The 
trolley isn’t in yet. I thought there was a good 
chance of getting here first, because you know these 
trolleys make a stop of fifteen minutes up at the 
Lotusville Junction. Drive to the next trolley sta- 
tion and we will wait there. It would be a little bet- 
ter to nab our friend before we get into the town 
proper.” 

Marty could stand it no longer. u Tell me,” he 
begged, “what you have to do with Mr. Gibbins? 
’Tisn’t anything about Betsey, is it? ” 

Mr. Stevens deliberated for a moment. Then: 
“ No, it isn’t anything about Betsey, and I don’t 
know why I shouldn’t tell you. Mr. Gibbins is 
wanted for improper use of post office money.” 

“ What do you mean — that he’s dishonest? ” 

“ That’s about it. He’s had an elaborate sys- 


A Ride Through the Night 1 6 1 

tem for defrauding the government with faked post 
office money orders. We’ve been on his trail for 
some little time just waiting to get the evidence. 
We got it yesterday, and then a new man on the 
force sort of spilled the beans; let the cat out of the 
bag, in other words, and Gibbins got wise. That’s 
what he’s making his get-away to-night for. ’Tisn’t 
to keep your sister from you; it’s simply to escape 
the law.” 

“ Well, how did you ever come to be looking for 
Gibbins over in Meadeville at ten o’clock at night? ” 

“ Simple enough ; we were planning to arrest him 
to-night as we knew he was wise to what was doing 
through the fluke our man had made, and we didn’t 
dare lose any time, knowing he might try to get 
away. But we didn’t move quite quickly enough. 
When the detective got to Knoll Point late in the eve- 
ning Gibbins had disappeared. It was easy enough 
to figure out how he’d gone. There hadn’t been a 
train; his auto was still in the barn; there was only 
the river left. Our man phoned the Norwich office 
at once and they got me on the job. It was a cinch 
he’d be making for the trolley at Meadeville, so 
there’s where I headed for. But the old sinner had 
too much of a start on me. We’ll get him yet, 
though. And now is it all clear? ” 

Marty smiled. “ Clearer,” he said. Silence for 
a moment, then: “ But tell me, Mr. Stevens, why 
wouldn’t he let me have Betsey when I went for her 


1 62 Marty Lends a Hand 

this afternoon? I can’t see any reason for that. 
You’d have thought he’d have been glad to be rid 
of her.” 

“ Probably afraid the kid might give something 
away. Most likely she’d heard or seen something; 
children are into everything, and all ears, you know. 
‘ A guilty conscience needs no accuser.’ If he had 
the girl with him, he could control what she said 
to a degree, and he wasn’t going to run any un- 
necessary risk of having something leak out. Be- 
sides he was making his plans then for this little trip 
to-night and he didn’t want to be delayed. If you 
were hanging around the house in the afternoon with 
your sister, it might be hard to get rid of you in the 
evening. It was best to send you away, before he 
was face to face with emergency. It’s as clear as 
the nose on your face.” Stevens end.ed suddenly 
with : “ Ah ! there comes our car, and now to see 

if our man is on it.” 

Stevens stepped out to the side of the road and 
signaled the approaching trolley. It stopped, 
Stevens boarded it, spoke a word or two to the con- 
ductor on the platform, and then went inside. 
There were few passengers, and at first glance 
Stevens saw his man. He was sitting well toward 
the front of the car, his head sunk forward, his eyes 
closed. Betsey was curled up in the seat facing 
him, asleep. 

Stevens touched the man on the arm. “ Gibbins,” 


A Ride Through the Night 163 

he said, “ you’re wanted outside. Come along and 
make no fuss.” He exhibited his badge of office 
as he spoke. Gibbins blinked for a moment at the 
shining shield in the officer’s palm and then, with a 
great sigh, rose and followed Stevens. 

In pursuance of Stevens’ instructions, Marty had 
waited outside. “ Where’s Betsey? ” he asked anx- 
iously, as the two men appeared. 

“ She’s inside, sleeping. I thought you might like 
to go in and get her. She needn’t know anything 
about this other business. Better for a child like 
her not to,” he added. 

Marty ran into the car and up to the seat where 
his sister was still sleeping. “ Betsey,” he called 
softly, “ Betsey, wake up, Marty’s here.” Betsey 
opened her eyes and looked at him for a moment un- 
certainly. 

“ Oh, brother,” she said and threw her arms 
around his neck. 

The motorman clanged his bell, and Marty, hear- 
ing the warning, took his sister’s hand and led her 
down the aisle and outside. 

They found Stevens waiting for them. The au- 
tomobile and the driver, with Mr. Gibbins, had gone. 

“ I thought it best to get rid of him before you 
got around with the little kid,” he explained in an 
undertone to Marty. “ Now, then, you two are 
coming home with me. I just live a few blocks 
from here, and the ‘ missus ’ will be mighty glad to 


164 Marty Lends a Hand 

take care of you. You must be tired, both of you, 
after your exciting rides. Are you tired, little 
girl? ” he asked, bending over Betsey. 

“ Yes, sir,” she answered, smiling, “ I am tired, 
but I don’t care any more, now Marty’s come. 
Where’s Cousin Herman?” 

“ He’s gone off with another man.” 

“ Oh,” she said, “ I guess Cousin Herman’s sick. 
He’s been pretty nice to me all except for the last 
few days, and then he wouldn’t let me play nor 
anything. Don’t you think he’s sick?” 

“ Yes, I guess he is.” Mr. Stevens took the little 
girl up in his strong arms, “ and you will be sick, 
too, if you don’t get to bed pretty soon.” 


CHAPTER XVII 

“ MUSHROOM DAY — MUSHROOM DAY ! ” 

44 A ND now for home. How does that sound, 

ii Betsey — home?” 

“And mother? Will she be there, too?” 

“ Course she will, and won’t she be glad to see 
you ! ” 

“ And I’ll be glad to see her,” Betsey added. 

It was a beautiful morning. From the dining- 
room window of the Stevens home the Clearwater 
River could be seen, a sparkling band of blue flecked 
with tiny whitecaps. Everything was bright and 
cheery, a contrast to the grim, forbidding darkness 
of the night before. 

“ Did you sleep well? ” Mrs. Stevens asked as she 
came into the room, bearing steaming breakfast 
dishes. 

“ I certainly did, and I guess Betsey did too. 
Surely we slept long enough. Why didn’t you call 
us earlier? ” 

“ Well, it was so late when you got to bed that I 
thought you should sleep until you woke up,” Mrs. 
Stevens answered. “ Besides, it’s only nine o’clock. 

165 


166 Marty Lends a Hand 

And how are you, little girl, this morning? ” turning 
to Betsey. 

“ I’m fine, thank you,” Betsey replied primly. 

“ Good! Now then for a bit to eat.” 

During the meal, Marty made his plans. Mr. 
Stevens, who had gone to his work, had left word 
that he would not require the boy any longer, and 
had suggested that if he were so disposed he could 
get a train for Westvale at n 105. 

“ I think that’s just what we’ll do. We’d get 
home, then, early this afternoon. But what’ll I do 
about Larry? ” And he explained about his friend. 

“ You could phone him, if you liked,” Mrs. 
Stevens suggested. “ The minister at Knoll Point 
lives near the Burns and would be glad to take a 
message. I know him, I’ll attend to it for you if 
you wish.” 

“ You’re very kind. If you’ll phone him that 
we’re going home on the 1 1 105 train and ask him 
to bring my traps with him when he comes, I’d be 
so much obliged.” 

“ Oh, I can’t leave Emma Jane,” Betsey suddenly 
put in. 

“Emma Jane? Who’s she?” 

“ The rag doll Cousin Ella made for me. And 
I got lots of other things up there to Cousin Ella’s. 
Can’t we go get ’em? ” 

“ Clothes, you mean?” 

“ No, I got most of my clothes in the bag, but 


“Mushroom Day — Mushroom Day!” 167 

Cousin Herman wouldn’t let me take the other 
things. He said they was just junk.” 

“ I don’t think we’d better take the time to get 
them now, as long as you’ve got your dresses and 
necessary articles,” Marty said. 

“ I got them, but I would like my junk, specially 
Emma Jane. She’s been lots of comfort.” 

“ Don’t worry about her. We’ll get mother to 
make you another one, heaps nicer.” 

“ All right, then,” Betsey agreed, though not en- 
thusiastically. Jumping down from her chair she 
ran to the door, her attention fortunately caught by 
a sleek cat basking in the sun on the porch. “ Is 
that your cat? ” she asked and without waiting for 
a reply she stepped out and began to stroke the ani- 
mal’s glossy fur. “ Nice kitty — m-m-m — nice old 
pussycat.” 

When she was out of hearing, Marty turned to 
Mrs. Stevens. “ I can’t tell you how grateful we 
are for your kindness. I hope some time you may 
meet my mother. She will make you understand.” 

“ I’d like to meet your mother,” Mrs. Stevens 
returned cordially. 

There was an awkward pause; then: “ Can you 
tell me anything more about Mr. Gibbins? ” Marty 
asked. 

“ Yes, Mr. Stevens told me to say to you that Mr. 
Gibbins had broken down and confessed. I think 
even my husband was sorry for him. He said he 


1 68 Marty Lends a Hand 

seemed like a big, strong man that had made a mis- 
take and had had to keep on doing things that were 
not right because of his first false step. He will be 
punished, but perhaps it won’t go so hard with him 
as it appeared it would at first.” 

“ I am glad I haven’t got to see him again, and 
Tm glad, too, that Betsey doesn’t need to know.” 

“ Yes, it’s just as well. My husband said he 
wouldn’t need you, as you were not mixed up in the 
case in which he’s interested. If you’d been able to 
give any information in that direction he’d probably 
be holding you.” 

“ I’m glad I can go. I haven’t been happy since 
we let Betsey go away, and I’m crazy to get back 
home with her.” 

To Marty time had never moved so slowly as it 
did that morning. Each minute seemed like ten! 
But at last 11:05 came and with it the train for 
Westvale. Once aboard, the train barely crawled 
— or so Marty would have stoutly maintained — 
and yet they arrived in Westvale almost on schedule 
time ! 

No one was on the lookout at home for them, for 
it had been understood that they would not return 
until the next day at the earliest. Consequently 
brother and sister walked right into the sitting room 
before any one heard or saw them. This had been 


“Mushroom Day — Mushroom Day!” 169 

exactly as Betsey had wanted it, for all the way up 
from the station she had kept saying over and over 
again: “Now, let’s s’prise her; let’s s’prise her.” 

And indeed they did “ s’prise her.” Mrs. Kelly 
hearing a footstep glanced up from her sewing and 
her eyes fell upon the little girl standing in front of 
the tall, dark, serious-looking boy. The napkin she 
Was hemming fell from her hands. “ Betsey! ” she 
cried, rising quickly and holding out her arms. 

Betsey ran to her and was caught in a swift em- 
brace. 

“Oh, it’s so good, so good to see my little girl 
again.” Mrs. Kelly pressed her face against the 
child’s. “ I’ve missed you, nobody knows how I’ve 
missed you.” 

. “ I’ll never go away any more, mumsey, so don’t 
cry. I like it lots better here and I wanted you so 
much.” There were signs that Betsey herself was 
near to tears. 

“ But what are we crying about? Everything’s 
perfect again and you did have a good time, didn’t 
you, dear? ” 

“ Yes,” doubtfully, “ some of the time. All 
’cept when Cousin Herman ran away last night and 
took me with him in the boat and Marty came and 
we stayed in Mrs. Stevens’ house and — ” 

“What’s all this? I don’t understand,” Mrs. 
Kelly looked at Marty inquiringly. 


170 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Betsey doesn’t like traveling at night,” Marty 
explained, passing his mother a significant look, “ but 
it’s all over now.” 

“Yes, it’s all over now,” Betsey agreed, “but 
how’s Cousin Herman? — that’s what I’d like to 
know. He’s sick and oh, how’s papa? He’s sick, 
too, isn’t he? ” 

There was a puzzled look on Mrs. Kelly’s face, 
but she refrained from asking further questions at 
that time. 

“ Where’s dad? ” Marty asked. 

“ Oh, he’s up at the mine with Hen. He went 
there yesterday morning and then again this after- 
noon. He seems to make the trip easier each time.” 
Mrs. Kelly smiled happily. “ And oh ” — she went 
on suddenly as though something had just occurred 
to her — “ Mr. Lanier was here yesterday.” 

“ Mr. Lanier? Not the Lanier of Lanier & Co., 
Newton City, dealers in fancy fruits and vege- 
tables? ” 

“ Yes, the very same. He’s more than a dealer, 
it seems. He’s a grower as well, and has interests 
in half a dozen enterprises.” 

“ What did he want? ” 

“ Just wanted to look around your mushroom 
farm as he calls it. Had heard of your experiment 
and was interested in it.” 

“ Humph ! that’s funny,” was Marty’s comment. 
“ Did Hen show him around the mine? ” 


“Mushroom Day — Mushroom Day!” 171 

“ Yes, I guess so, but you’ll have to ask Hen and 
your father for the particulars.” 

“ That’s what I’m going to do and right away. 
I’ve been away from the mine for two days and it 
seems like two years. Me for my old stamping 
ground right now.” 

He dashed out of the room. A joyful yelp 
greeted him in the yard. 

“ Hello, Spac ! ” He stooped over and caught the 
dog’s head in his hands. “ Glad to see me, aren’t 
you, old boy? Come on, now, I’ll race you to the 
mine ” — and the boy and dog disappeared up the 
road in a whirl of dust. 

About half the distance to the Bluffs they met 
Mr. Kelly and Hen, returning. 

“ Oh, boy! ” Hen sang out as Marty came up to 
him, “ you’re just in time. The mushrooms are up.” 

“ They are? ” incredulously. 

“Yes! Come, hurry! I’ll show you.” Hen 
turned and sped back to the mine, Marty running 
by his side and Spac following, barking and enjoy- 
ing the excitement thoroughly. Mr. Kelly looked 
after them hesitatingly — and longingly — and then 
sat down by the roadside to await their return. 

“ Tell me,” Marty said as they hurried along, 
“ about this Lanier. What do you suppose he 
wants? ” 

“ He said he simply was interested in your ex- 
periment,” Hen answered. 


172 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Professor Newcombe has sort of prejudiced me 
against him, I guess. He says he’s crafty and un- 
reliable. I’d just as soon he’d kept away.” 

“What harm could his visit possibly do?” Hen 
asked. 

“ I don’t know — I guess there isn’t any reason 
for my feeling. Only I’ve got the idea Lanier isn’t 
interested in a thing unless he sees some chance of 
turning it to his own account some way.” 

“ Oh, well, cheer up ! I don’t believe he can put 
anything over on you this time, and now then, here 
we are. Allow me to introduce you to as thriving 
a crop of mushrooms as you’d care to see.” With 
a grand flourish, Hen threw open the mine door. 

Sure enough there had been a change in the mush- 
room beds, the change which had been so eagerly 
anticipated. Little yellowish white points were now' 
pricking through the surface in dozens of places. 

“They’re up! They’re up!” Marty shouted 
joyously. “ They’re up ! ” 

He flashed his light first on, one bed and then on 
another. 

“ They’re growing in every bed,” he cried. 
“See there and there — and there. Oh, you dear 
little white points ! Come on, now, shoot straight 
up and grow until you’re as big as umbrellas.” 

He grabbed Hen and with him executed a weird 
dance in and out among the beds, a dance rendered 


“Mushroom Day — Mushroom Day!” 173 

all the more fantastic by the shadows which the 
lantern cast on the rough tunnel’s interior. 

“ But this won’t do,” Marty broke off; “I must 
go and tell — ” 

“ Tell the truckman to call for the first load of 
vegetables, I suppose.” 

“ In a couple of weeks — yes. But now I must 
tell Professor Newcombe. He’ll be glad — as 
glad as I am. You take father home; I’ll follow 
soon.” 

It was not Professor Newcombe who next heard 
the good news, but Wilda Bennett. Marty saw 
her shortly after he had left Hen and his father and 
was hurrying off to the professor’s bungalow. She 
was on the opposite side of the street, and he ran 
over to her, calling out gayly: 

“Mushroom day! Mushroom day! That’s 
what I’m going to say all this livelong day instead of 
‘ good day.’ ” 

“ Oh, Marty, then they are up? ” 

“Yes, they are up; dozens, hundreds, thousands 
of them.” 

“ Glorious! You will be a millionaire.” 

“ Well,” skeptically, “ I’m not so sure of that, but 
think I may be a mushroomaire. Now I’ve got to 
hurry along and tell Professor Newcombe and then 
we’re going to go down and watch ’em grow.” 

He went along a few steps and then sang out: 


174 Marty Lends a Hand 

“ I’m going to send you the first one that’s picked, 
Wilda, to be cooked with a nice beefsteak.” 

“ If you do,” Wilda flung back, “ I shall not cook 
it with beefsteak, I shall preserve it in alcohol.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 

LANIER MAKES AN OFFER 

T HE mushrooms grew rapidly, and in what 
seemed an incredibly short time they were 
ready for picking. 

“ Yes, boy,” Professor Newcombe remarked, 
“ once they stick their heads above ground it isn’t 
long before they’re full grown, but it takes them a 
powerful long time underneath there to get started. 
It’s a wonderful crop you’re going to have ! ” The 
professor surveyed the three beds with just pride. 
“ It’s to-morrow, isn’t it, that you take the first pick- 
ing in to Blanchard?” 

“ Yes, to-morrow, and the next day we have our 
mushroom ball.” 

“ Of course; so we do, so we do,” the professor 
agreed. 

“ You’ll come, won’t you? ” 

“ Of course ! I wouldn’t miss it for anything. 
You’re going to have it here? ” 

“ Right here. We’re going to have it all fixed up 
with Japanese lanterns so you won’t know the place. 
And Lize, the Bennetts’ colored Mammy, is going to 
do the cooking. Mostly vegetables but, oh, how 
i75 


176 Marty Lends a Hand 

she can cook ’em — roasted corn and yellow squash 
and — but that would be telling — and mushrooms, 
of course, heaps of them. It’s the finest bunch of 
people in the world that’s coming and I do want ’em 
to have a good time.” 

“ It’s the same crowd that we had at the time of 
the cave-in, isn’t it? ” 

Marty nodded. “ Yes, even to Doc Goddard and 
Mrs. Bennett. Larry Reed’ll be here too, this 
time.” 

“ Fine boys and girls, they are,” Professor New- 
combe said. 

“ And the seat at the head of the table is reserved 
for you,” Marty explained. 

“ Oh, not for me,” Professor Newcombe pro- 
tested, though he was evidently pleased at the 
thought. 

“ Of course for you — haven’t you been my part- 
ner? We’re going to set the table up in the other 
tunnel where the German agents had their printing 
press. We’ve got it all ready now, built out of old 
boxes and planks, and we’ll cover it over with some- 
thing white.” 

“ Are you going back to school in the fall, 
Marty?” Professor Newcombe changed the subject 
abruptly. “ That seems quite a ways off, I know, 
but really it isn’t, and it’s well to be making plans.” 

“ I don’t know yet. Of course while our mush- 
rooms have grown, there isn’t any money coming 


177 


Lanier Makes an Offer 

in from them yet and there won’t be for some little 
time. I’m sure they’ll pay in the end, but I don’t 
know about school for the present. Dad’s pretty 
strong, but he couldn’t take a regular job. I think 
probably I’d better be looking for something to do 
for the winter. You won’t be needing me much 
longer around your place and I’ve got to keep a little 
money flowing into the family treasury.” 

“ Mm — well, we’ll see. I shall want you 
through August, anyway, and perhaps something will 
develop in the meantime — maybe Blanchard will 
have a suggestion. He’s a fine man, is Blanchard. 
I’ve knowm him for years.” 

“ You think he’s a better one to sell the mush- 
rooms to than Lanier? ” 

“ It’s my opinion that he is — but I’d sell to the 
one that made the best proposition. You can com- 
pare notes after you’ve seen them both.” 

“ Does Blanchard do as big a business as Lanier? 
Somehow it seems as though one heard more about 
Lanier & Co.” 

“ That’s because Lanier advertises more,” Pro- 
fessor Newcombe replied. “ Blanchard has just as 
large a trade and he’s a grower, too. I hope it will 
seem wise to tie up with him. Well, I must be going 
along now, I guess.” 

“ Whatever you do,” Marty cautioned, “ don’t 
forget the mushroom ball, to-morrow, at seven 
o’clock.” 


178 Marty Lends a Hand 

The professor nodded and turned to the nearest 
exit. Marty took his arm affectionately and walked 
out with him. 

The professor had hardly gone when Marty had 
another caller. The boy was just about to leave for 
the day when he heard a fumbling at the door and, 
going to open it, found a man there. 

“ I am looking for Martin Kelly,” the stranger 
said. 

“ Right here ! What can he do for you? ” 

The man extended his hand. “ I’m Lanier, 
Robert Lanier, you know. You weren’t here when 
I called before, but your father and your friend 
showed me around. It’s an unusual experiment you 
are trying, Kelly. I’m a mushroom grower myself 
and I’m watching what you are doing with a great 
deal of interest.” 

“ You are very kind,” Marty said and waited. 

“ I thought perhaps you would invite me in and 
let me see how your crop is coming along,” Mr. 
Lanier said after a moment. . “ Is it growing as it 
should?” 

“ Yes,” Marty replied none too cordially, “ in 
fact, I’m expecting to take the first mushrooms to 
market to-morrow.” 

“ I hope you are going to let me have them,” Mr. 
Lanier suggested. 

“ That depends. I’m going to sell them to the 


Lanier Makes an Offer 179 

person who pays me the most. I’m in this for 
money, you see.” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Mr. Lanier agreed. “I think 
Lanier & Co. can pay you quite as much as any one. 
May I come in and see the beds? ” 

Marty led the way back to the mushrooms. 

“Wonderful; wonderful!” Mr. Lanier cried. 
“ I’ve never seen better mushrooms. It speaks well 
for your care, my boy. You must have had expert 
advice in the preparation of the compost.” 

“ I had the very best advice in the country, I 
think.” 

“ I am delighted,” Lanier continued, “ at your 
success, delighted! I congratulate you.” 

“ Thank you ! ” 

“I — I — I — suppose that — I suppose that, 
now that you’ve had — had your little fling you 
won’t be trying it any more? ” 

“Trying it? I don’t understand.” 

“ Why, mushroom growing is hard work, and 
now that you have shown what you can do you’re 
satisfied, aren’t you? You won’t want to keep on 
raising mushrooms, will you?” Mr. Lanier 
laughed and slapped Marty on the back. “ Too 
monotonous, eh?” 

“ Oh, but that’s exactly what I do expect to do,” 
Marty contradicted. “ I want to go into it more 
extensively and have all the tunnels given over to 


180 Marty Lends a Hand 

beds. One could raise heaps and heaps of mush- 
rooms here, and I mean to do it.” 

“ Oh, I thought it was simply play for you. I 
was going to suggest that you let me have the mine 
now, as raising mushrooms is my business, or part 
of it. I thought perhaps I could buy the lease from 
you — you have a lease, I assume? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I have a lease,” Marty answered, with 
heart beating high. “ But you couldn’t buy it, Mr. 
Lanier, because if mushrooms are to be grown in 
this mine I’m going to grow them.” 

“ I’ll pay a premium for your lease,” Lanier said. 
“ You see,” with an appearance of frankness, “ I 
have got to get more mushrooms for my market. I 
must either build a mushroom cellar, and that would 
be quite an expense, or I must get something like 
this. Now I’ll make it worth your while to let me 
have this. How long does your lease run? ” 

“ I couldn’t think of selling out for any figure,” 
Marty replied, ignoring altogether the latter ques- 
tion. 

“ Little stubborn, are you? Well, I admire stub- 
bornness,” and there was a genial look in the man’s 
eyes. “ Go to it, lad, only I wish I’d seen this mine 
first. Anyhow, I’m much obliged to you — and let 
me have a chance at the crop. I won’t blacklist you, 
for I admire your pluck.” With a curt little nod, 
Lanier departed. 

Marty stood at the door thoughtfully watching 


Lanier Makes an Offer 1 8 1 

him as he walked away. There was a puzzled ex- 
pression on his face. After a moment he went in- 
side, got his hat, gave a final touch to things, and 
hurried off. There could be no harm in trying the 
scheme he had in mind anyway. 

Down .through Westvale’s residential streets he 
hurried right into the little business section and up 
to an office building from one of the front windows 
of which hung a sign reading, “ S. Reynolds, Real 
Estate, Insurance, Notary Public.” Marty glanced 
up at it doubtfully and then started up the stone steps 
leading to the entrance. As he did so a man came 
out of the door and ran down the steps to the street. 

Marty thought there was something familiar 
about the figure and turned to look at him. It was 
Mr. Lanier! A sickening thought crossed his mind. 
Was he too late? He opened the door and went in. 

Mr. Reynolds was in, the office boy informed him, 
and a moment later, “ Yes, he will see you.” 

“ Well, Kelly, are you sick of your bargain and 
want your money back, or what is the reason that I 
am honored with this call?” Reynolds began 
genially. 

“ Mr. Reynolds, I can’t beat around the bush at 
all ” — there was a helpless note in Marty’s voice. 
“ The mushrooms are going to grow all right in that 
old mine. I’ve seen enough to be convinced of that. 
Now, I want to know if you will let me take a lease 
on the mine for say five years. I don’t know any- 


182 Marty Lends a Hand 

thing about the formal proceedings, whether you 
expect me to pay you something in advance or what, 
but I wish we could bind the bargain some way.” 

“ What’s your anxiety? ” Mr. Reynolds asked. 

“I — I think somebody else is likely to rent it,” 
Marty faltered. “ Give me an option on it. Isn’t 
that what you call it? If it takes money, I’ll raise 
it somehow.” 

“ The mine is rented, Kelly. A new lease has al- 
ready been made out and signed to begin when your 
lease expires. If I’d only realized how popular that 
old place was going to be, all of a sudden, I’d have 
raised the price good and high, too,” Reynolds con- 
cluded brusquely. 

“ Rented! ” Marty cried disconsolately. 

Mr. Reynolds nodded. 

“ Well,” and Marty’s tone was expressionless, “ I 
suppose there is nothing more to say.” He rose and 
walked to the door. 

“ Buck up, lad,” Reynolds called after him. 
“ You can grow an awful lot of mushrooms between 
now and the beginning of the next lease; that is, if 
they grow as rapid as folks say.” 

But Marty did not hear his words. He walked 
down the steps mechanically and up the street, say- 
ing over and over to himself, “ Why didn’t I do it 
before? Lanier’s got the mine. He found I only 
had it for a year. Why didn’t I see Reynolds be- 
fore?” 


Lanier Makes an Offer 183 

As he neared home, he straightened up and threw 
back his shoulders. They mustn’t know about it. 
They couldn’t help it and they had things enough to 
worry about without that. He had been keeping his 
troubles to himself so long that it was becoming 
second nature to do so. Besides, a lot of things 
might happen, he supposed, between now and — 
Lanier. As he put his hand in his pocket for his 
latchkey his fingers touched a square envelope. He 
drew it out. Ah, yes, a very special invitation to 
Wilda Bennett for the mushroom ball. To be sure 
he had asked her verbally several times and she had 
agreed to come, but still in the joyousness of the 
evening before, he had written her a personal note, 
“ engraved by mine own hand ” was his own de- 
scription of it, telling her again how much he counted 
on her presence. 

He looked at the missive ruefully. “ The mush- 
room ball,” he thought skeptically. Well, it 
wouldn’t be the wonderful affair he had planned. 
There would be a dark cloud hanging over it all. 
Still, he supposed he would have to go through with 
it now. He went back to the corner and dropped the 
envelope into the mail box. 


CHAPTER XIX 

THE MUSHROOM BALL 


HE next day it rained, rained in torrents from 



l early morning until after dark. Marty stood 
around the house dismally, one moment deciding to 
go to market with his mushrooms as he had planned, 
the next reversing his decision and determining to 
wait for fairer weather. 

“ It doesn’t make any special difference, I sup- 
pose,” he finally remarked to his mother, “ whether 
I go to-day or the day after to-morrow. I can’t go 
to-morrow because we have our party — ” 

“ The mushroom ball as you call it? ” Mrs. Kelly 
put in gayly. 

“ Um, um! Perhaps it would be better to wait 
until after the party to see how many mushrooms we 
have left to sell. We may eat an awful lot.” 

And so it was left and the day wore on. 

“ It’ll be nice if it is like this to-morrow,” Marty 
observed glumly later that afternoon when the skies 
were still gray and the rain still fell. 

But it wasn’t like that! During the night a brisk 
wind rose, clearing the skies, and the morning 
dawned fair and brilliant. 


The Mushroom Ball 185 

“ Nothing the matter with this day for your mush- 
room ball, son,” Mr. Kelly said as he came into the 
dining room for breakfast. 

“ No,” Marty agreed unenthusiastically. 

“Just ‘no’?” Mr. Kelly objected. “Why, 
things are greener and fresher than they’ve been for 
weeks. We needed that rain — even if it did hold 
up your trip to Newton City.” 

“ Urn, hm.” 

Mr. Kelly looked at his son questioningly. 
“ What’s the matter, Martin? Don’t you feel well 
this morning? ” 

“ Fine, father; why? ” 

“ Oh, you seem so sort of disinterested. This 
ought to be a big day* for you — a happy day, I 
mean.” 

“ Why, just because I’ve proved that mushrooms 
can be grown in the mine ? That won’t feed us and 
clothe us. I haven’t actually accomplished any- 
thing.” 

“ Son ! ” Mrs. Kelly spoke sternly. “ That’s 
not fair to yourself. You’ve worked hard for the 
professor in the hot fields for weeks; without the 
money that you earned that way I don’t know how 
we’d have got along. That’s accomplishing some- 
thing, I’m sure. More than that, you’ve proved 
that mushrooms will grow in the mine; there’ll be 
a tidy little sum coming in from your first crop and 
you can invest that in more materials and go into 


1 86 Marty Lends a Hand 

the business on a larger scale. I think probably 
you could borrow some money — now that every- 
body sees it isn’t a foolish idea — and plant the 
whole mine full. You’ve no ground to be discour- 
aged; you ought, instead, to be very happy.” 

Marty pushed his chair back from the table. 
“ Are you happy, mother? And you, dad? Good! 
Then I’ll be too!” 

“ Ah, that’s better; spoken like my old son, Mar- 
tin. You’ve been awfully grumpy for a day or two.” 

“Well, I’ll have to be specially good-natured to 
make up for it. Keep your eye on me from now 
on — you’ll see. But ” — and Marty laughed — 
“ you’ll have to be quick of eye, because I’m going 
to be rushing around.” He picked up his hat from 
the chair where he had tossed it when he came into 
the room. “ This is my busy day. I’ve heaps and 
heaps to do before night.” He walked to the door 
and stepped out. “ You’ll be up to the mine soon, 
I suppose, dad? You’ll find me there all right — 
and radiating sunshine. So long!” — and he was 
off. 

He wondered how happy and contented they 
would be if they knew all that he knew. It was a 
pity, such a pity, that he had lost the mine ! 

Arrived at the mine, Marty at once began to make 
it a fit scene for the celebration of the evening. 
First of all there were Japanese lanterns to be hung 
in all the tunnels. He had borrowed nearly one 


The Mushroom Ball 


187 

hundred from a friend who had been chairman of 
a lawn fete where they had been used. By an ar- 
rangement of ropes he was able to string a line of 
lights from the entrance down into the central 
chamber where were located the mushroom beds; 
here his scheme of decoration became more elabo- 
rate, the lights fairly covering the rough ceiling. 
From this “ blaze of glory,” another string of lights 
extended up another tunnel and ended in a glow of 
radiance over the improvised table. 

He had just finished putting up the last lantern 
when he heard his name spoken. 

“Yes?” he turned and walked in the direction 
from which the voice had come. “ It’s you, isn’t it, 
Professor Newcombe?” 

“ It is, my boy. A wonderful place you’ve made 
out of this dingy old hole in the ground.” 

“ You like it, do you? I’m so glad, but I’ll have 
to hurry around and blow out the candles or they’ll 
burn out too soon to-night. I lit ’em all because I 
wanted to see the effect.” 

“ All right, plunge us into darkness, then,” the 
professor agreed, “ but be quick about it, for Mr. 
Blanchard is here.” 

“ Blanchard here!” 

“ Yes. I thought I wouldn’t bring him in without 
your permission. I sort of invited him to come and 
look the ground over. He didn’t expect to come un- 
til he had seen the mushrooms, but I — I ” — the 


1 88 Marty Lends a Hand 

professor seemed to be at a loss for words — “I 
rather advised him to come to-day.” 

“ You advised him to come to-day? ” 

“ There are phones, my boy, and Newton City 
isn’t so far away. I thought perhaps it would be a 
satisfaction to you to know something about your 
prospects before the mushroom ball was on. 
Might lend it a gayer and more festive character, 
don’t you know.” 

“ Oh! Well, I’ll put out the lights and be right 
back. You can bring Mr. Blanchard in, of course, 
just as if you didn’t know that. You might get him 
while I make the rounds.” 

When Marty returned a few moments later he 
found the professor and another man earnestly en- 
gaged in conversation. He stood at a distance for 
a moment, and then the professor got sight of him. 

“ Ah, Mr. Blanchard, this is my young friend, 
Martin Kelly, the mushroom grower.” 

Marty laughed. “ I guess Mr. Blanchard knows 
how far I would have got growing mushrooms if it 
hadn’t been for Professor Newcombe,” Marty said 
as he took the hand which Blanchard extended to 
him. 

“ Now don’t you let him mislead you, my dear 
Bob,” Professor Newcombe cut in, taking Blan- 
chard’s arm intimately. “ If I hadn’t been on hand 
to give him a little advice he would have found some 
one else to do it. He’s that sort, see?” 


The Mushroom Ball 189 

“ Seems to be a mutual admiration party,” Mr. 
Blanchard observed. “ Well, anyhow, I won’t enter 
into the whys and wherefores. I only know that 
you’ve got some wonderful beds of mushrooms here, 
as fine as any I have ever seen, and Newcombe says 
you did it. He’s an old friend and I dare not dis- 
pute his word.” 

“ I am glad you like them,” was Marty’s some- 
what embarrassed reply. 

“ I do and I want to buy them.” 

“ That’s what they’re for,” Marty said; “ that is, 
that’s what those that are left after to-night’s cele- 
bration are for. What are mushrooms worth?” 

“ What would you say,” Mr. Blanchard asked 
after a moment, apparently ignoring Marty’s ques- 
tion, “ if I should make you a general proposition? ” 

“ Do you mean that you would buy all of the 
crop and pay me so much for it? ” 

“ I mean more than that.” Mr. Blanchard 
stopped and looked at Marty squarely. Then he 
looked away thoughtfully and then back at the 
boy again. Professor Newcombe meanwhile had 
walked off to the farthest bed and was examining the 
growth in the farthest corner of that bed. 

“ Lad,” Mr. Blanchard began, “ you have a friend 
at court.” 

“ As if I didn’t know that! ” Marty exclaimed. 

“ He has put up to me a suggestion, and I have 
been turning it over in my mind for weeks. It has 


190 Marty Lends a Hand 

looked pretty good to me all the time and since I 
have seen your mushrooms and the general layout 
of the mine it has looked even better. How would 
you like to have me — ” Mr. Blanchard paused tan- 
talizingly. 

“ Yes, sir, I’m listening,” Marty said. 

“ How would you like to have me,” Mr. Blan- 
chard repeated, “ take over the operation of this 
mine and go into the mushroom-growing business on 
a large scale? There’d be a good job for you, and 
your father could be installed as general caretaker.” 

“ Oh, it would be wonderful if — ” 

Mr. Blanchard went on, absorbed in his own idea : 
“ There wouldn’t be any reason why you couldn’t 
go back to school in September. All the time you’d 
have to give to the work, you could give outside of 
school hours. Your father would be able to attend 
to the details. It looks like a pretty good stunt to 
me! We could have hundreds of beds in here and 
make a big thing out of it. I am ready to put money 
into it if you say the word. There would be a mod- 
est salary in it for your father, enough to live on, 
and as for you, well, you’d get your share.” Mr. 
Blanchard stopped. “ What do you say? ” 

“ It’s too late,” Marty answered. 

“ Too late?” 

“ Yes, my lease expires next year and Lanier will 
take over the mine then; he got ahead of me.” 


The Mushroom Ball 


191 

“Lanier! Why, I thought Newcombe said — 
who told you Lanier had leased it? ” 

“ Nobody told me, but he was here a couple of 
days ago and he tried to get me to sell out and I 
wouldn’t. He was so eager to get the mine, how- 
ever, that I thought I’d better see about taking out 
a lease for a period of years myself, and I went right 
down to Reynolds, the agent. Just as I was going 
into his office, Lanier came out, and when I saw 
Reynolds he told me the mine was leased and he 
couldn’t do anything for me. So, of course, Lanier’s 
got it. Who else? ” 

Professor Newcombe, who had been gradually 
edging nearer and nearer to the two, and whose in- 
terest in the mushroom beds had seemed to be grow- 
ing less and less, now interrupted. 

“ I happened to hear that last remark of yours, 
Marty. I am sorry about this Lanier proposition. 
If it weren’t for that, though, you’d be prepared to 
accept Mr. Blanchard’s terms, wouldn’t you? ” 

“Accept ’em? I’d love ’em!” Marty said. 
“ But what’s the use? Is there a chance that Lanier 
might give in? ” 

“ I never knew Lanier to give in on anything if 
he could help it,” Blanchard volunteered. 

“ No, I don’t suppose so.” It almost seemed to 
Marty that the professor chuckled as he said the 
words. “But if he couldn’t help it, he’d have to 


192 Marty Lends a Hand 

give in, wouldn’t he? Come along, Bob, let’s talk 
it over and see if there’s anything to be done. 
Somehow I have the feeling Lanier isn’t going to 
grow mushrooms in this mine. I — I certainly have 
that feeling! Curious, isn’t it?” 

“ Oh, if only it might be so ! The thing has had 
me worried.” 

“ Worrying and gardening never go together. 
Haven’t I often told you that, lad? But I forget, 
you’ve work to do. You might, if you wanted to 
be real hospitable, ask Blanchard here to come to 
your party to-night. He’s staying over with me 
and I think would like to.” 

“ Why, of course, I’d be mighty glad to have him 
come.” 

“ I’ll be on hand, then, boy.” Mr. Blanchard 
smiled genially. 

“ And as for you, Marty, I wouldn’t dismiss this 
proposition of Mr. Blanchard’s from my mind,” 
Professor Newcombe advised. “ There may be 
some way of making it work yet. Stranger things 
than that have happened. Blanchard and I’ll take 
a look into conditions to-day and see — what we 
shall see.” 

Without giving Marty a chance to get into the 
conversation again, the professor hurried to the 
door, arm in arm with Blanchard. “ We’ll be here 
again at seven,” he called back, “ and don’t forget 
to cook an extra fat mushroom for Bob.” 


The Mushroom Ball 


193 


The professor’s remarks seemed to revive Marty’s 
spirits. Perhaps, after all, there would be a way 
out; Lanier might, he supposed, be persuaded to 
make some sort of an arrangement that would not 
be wholly unpleasant. When he subjected his 
new courage to cold analysis, Marty could find lit- 
tle basis for it. It must have been something in 
the professor’s manner that had heartened him, 
something intangible, but none the less real. All 
during the day he was buoyed up by this new hope, 
and when evening came the last trace of his morn- 
ing’s despair had disappeared. 

Larry was the first of the guests to arrive. “ I’m 
part of the family, you know,” he explained, “ or 
at least, I feel as though I was, and I thought maybe 
you’d want some help.” 

“ Nothing to do; Lize has got everything in hand 
and she doesn’t like any interference. She just told 
me to ‘ g’wan away ’ ; said she knew how to cook a 
meal, even in a cave, without men fussing around! ” 
Marty laughed. “ But I’m glad you came early, 
anyhow, so you can tell me how you like the looks 
of things.” 

“ Great ! I didn’t think you could do it. And 
doesn’t it suggest romance and adventure? We’re 
going to have a bully time, to-night, I can see that — 
you’d have to in such surroundings ! ” 

“ And just think, Larry, all this came out of our 
visit up here in the spring and your happening to 


194 Marty Lends a Hand 

find a toadstool. I’m sure there’s a pretty big 
chance for some one right here — ” 

“For some one? Why not for you?” Larry 
looked at his friend in surprise. 

“ Perhaps — perhaps. I’d like to be sure it was 
for me.” 

Before he could explain what he meant, Mrs. Ben- 
nett and Wilda came. 

“ It’s just like fairyland,” Wilda cried delightedly. 
“ The lanterns make it wonderful. I thought it was 
going to be stuffy in here, but it isn’t a bit! ” 

“Of course not! You have to have good ven- 
tilation to grow mushrooms.” 

“ I’m just dying to see them, Marty — where are 
they? ” Wilda asked eagerly. 

“ If you will permit me, ladies, I will escort you 
into their august presences,” and giving his arm to 
Mrs. Bennett with elaborate grace, Marty led the 
way to the mushroom chamber. 

“ My, what a lot of them ! ” Wilda exclaimed at 
sight of the display. “ Mother, look there and 
there and there and there ! Three beds just full ! 
Oh, you dear, cunning little things ! ” She bent down 
over the mushrooms. 

Mrs. Bennett joined her. “ Any one would think 
you were talking about chickens. How interesting, 
I should say.” 

“ Any one would think you were talking about a 
book, mother dear,” Wilda parried. 


The Mushroom Ball 195 

There was a rush outside and, unannounced, Bert 
Simmons burst upon the scene. “ ‘ How interest- 
ing! ’ did I hear you remark? I should say, rather, 
how expensive ! I just priced them in one of the 
Newton stores: $1.00 per! Excuse me. But say, 
old man,” turning to Marty, “ I feel like Ali Baba 
coming into a cave of riches. It all has an Alad- 
din’s lamp atmosphere. Most effective, most ef- 
fective.” 

He surveyed the scene as though through a lor- 
gnette. “ Your scheme of decoration is, as Mrs. 
Patmore Smythe would observe, ‘ charmingly un- 
usual,’ but,” in a stage whisper, “ when do we eat 
and where? A mushroom ball doesn’t mean, does 
it, that we pick ’em up from the ground and eat ’em 
raw the way we do green onions? ” 

“I should say not! You can’t eat those down 
there,” Marty replied. “ Those are going to be 
sold, but — ” 

“ Now, Bertie, don’t you know,” Wilda chided, 
“ that when you go to parties it isn’t polite to talk 
about the food? ” 

“ Well, I’ll try to be good,” and Bert walked 
primly over to a chair, sat down, and folded his 
hands. 

Soon the others came — Dr. Goddard, Professor 
Newcombe, Mr. Blanchard, Alice Fielding, Hen 
Elliott and all of the cast of “ She Stoops to Con- 
quer,” and finally Mr. and Mrs. Kelly with Spac, 


196 Marty Lends a Hand 

for Marty had insisted that the dog be pres- 
ent. 

When the interior of the mine and the mushroom 
beds had been examined to the satisfaction of every 
one the party proceeded to the “ dining room ” 
where the huge, good-natured darky, Mammy Lize, 
held sway. 

“ Ise all ready for you,” she announced, “ Ise all 
ready.” 

It was a merry company that sat down amidst a 
clatter of chairs on the hard earthen floor, Pro- 
fessor Newcombe at the head of the table, Mrs. 
Bennett at the foot, Dr. Goddard in the middle of 
one long side, Mr. Blanchard facing him. 

“ We’re all quartered up,” Bert said, “ first a 
person to keep order, then some likely disturbers 
of the peace, then another order keeper and so on. 
Beautiful arrangement, Marty, beautiful! But be- 
fore your attention is wholly given over to Mammy’s 
cooking — and believe me it’s going to be great ” — 
with a smile in the direction of the grinning negress 
who stood arms akimbo in the background — “ I 
want to make a little announcement! ” 

“’Ray! ’Ray! Speech!” Hen Elliott called 
out. 

“ Be still, boy, or I’ll make you do it yourself! 
Really he should, because he’s all mixed up in what 
I’m going to say; but he’s such a shrinking violet, he 
can’t. I tried to foist it off on Larry Reed too — 


The Mushroom Ball 


197 

but he pleaded some excuse or other, I’ve forgotten 
what. So the burden fell on poor me ! ” 

Bert paused and his audience waited expectantly. 
Then he went on: “ It isn’t so much a speech, any- 
how, as it is a presentation.” He put his hand into 
his pocket and drew out a long envelope which he 
extended across the table to Marty. 

“ Allow me,” he said, “ to hand you a five years’ 
lease on this mine, secured through the foresight, the 
business sagacity of our mutual friend, Hen Elliott. 
Oh, I’m well up on social etiquette and I know this 
isn’t the customary part of the dinner hour to make 
presentations ! Ahem ! But I have a reason. I 
hate black clouds and I understand Marty here thinks 
the mine is going to some one else and isn’t very 
happy at the thought ! So I banish the clouds ! In 
the words of our dearly beloved English professor: 

“ ‘ Hence, loathed Melancholy 
Of Cerberus and — ’ 

Oh, dear, I can’t remember the rest — but anyhow, 
let’s all be happy I ” 

“ I don’t understand,” Marty said, rising from 
his seat. 

“ Oh, we’re not paying your rent — we’re simply 
making it possible for you to continue doing that lit- 
tle thing yourself. You see Hen took it into his 
head that somebody’d try to take the mine away from 
y 0U — seeing mushroom growing in it was a sure 


1 98 Marty Lends a Hand 

thing — and so he talked the matter over with the 
professor and with your father and while you and 
Larry were away on that joy trip of yours in Con- 
necticut, the lease was renewed, in your dad’s name. 
Lucky thing it was, too — judging by later develop- 
ments, isn’t it? But Hen and your father decided to 
keep it as a little surprise for you and spring it to- 
night and — that’s the whole story.” 

Marty’s eyes sought the professor’s across the 
table, then Mr. Blanchard’s in the other direction. 
There was an understanding twinkle in both pairs. 

“ You knew,” he said to the professor, “ you knew 
this morning.” 

The professor nodded. “ But we had agreed not 
to tell you until to-night. Of course if we’d had 
any idea that you were worrying about losing the 
mine we’d have told the facts at once. But you kept 
that worry all to yourself and even I never guessed 
until this afternoon.” 

“ I don’t care now! I always liked surprises and 
you people have certainly handed me a delightful 
one.” Marty hesitated, his eyes shining. Then 
he turned to Hen. “You’re a peach of a business 
man, Hen. I’ll take my hat off to you any time.” 

At this Mammy Lize precipitated herself into the 
situation. With arms akimbo she faced the dinner 
guests. 

“ What fo’ you-all sittin’ ’roun’ heah ’thout 
eatin’? ” she demanded. “ You-all stop talkin’ and 


The Mushroom Ball 


199 

fall to. I suah nough ain’t gwine have all ma cawn 
fritters get soggy jes’ so you can talk. Eat now and 
talk when you-all get done ! ” 

“ Pretty good advice, Mammy. It’s a vegetable 
dinner, folks, in deference to the wishes of the Food 
Administration — a war-time banquet — but I hope 
you’ll all enjoy it. Spac is the only one to get a bit 
of meat; he’s to have a chop all to himself! ” 

And then they “ fell to ” and in a way that de- 
lighted the colored lady, who declared that when 
she had been “ slavin’ away a-cookin’ vittles ” she 
liked to have “ ’em et up.” 

They pronounced the mushrooms the tenderest and 
the juiciest they had ever tasted. And such quanti- 
ties as there were of them ! 

“ Really, you know,” Wilda Bennett remarked 
frankly, “ I’ve never had enough mushrooms before 
to know whether I liked them or not. Now I know 
I do.” 

“ But how did you manage to cook so many things 
down here,” Alice Fielding asked, “ with so few 
conveniences? ” 

“ Give Mammy Lize a gasoline stove and an open 
fire and she can do wonders,” was Marty’s reply. 

“ I didn’t know there were so many kinds of veg- 
etables,” Bert Simmons confessed. “ We must have 
had a dozen varieties — corn and tomatoes and 
onions and cabbages and squash and string beans and, 
and—” 


200 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ Hush! ” Wilda commanded. “ You sound too 
much like a green-goods grocer ! ” 

“ Humph ! I never knew a green-goods grocer 
who had so many kinds as that. If I could have 
vegetables like these cooked as these are, I wouldn’t 
care if I never saw a beefsteak again! ” 

It was indeed a most successful vegetarian party, 
“ rounded out and topped off ” as Mammy Lize 
said, with an enormous berry shortcake. When the 
last vestige of that had disappeared, Marty an- 
nounced that dancing was next in order. 

One of the boys produced a violin, another a 
banjo, and soon dancing couples were floating up and 
down the long, gayly lighted tunnels. 

“ Even if these floors are not as smooth as glass ” 
— glancing down at the hard-packed earth — “ we’re 
having a cracking good time,” Bert sang out as he 
and Wilda swung past Marty, who was standing at 
one end of the tunnel watching his guests. 

“ Yes, we feel like woodland sprites and elves,” 
Wilda added. 

“ Or cave men,” Bert concluded. 

“ Pretty slick ending to your little experiment, 
eh?” Hen Elliott asked, joining Marty. 

“ It sure is a jolly ending, thanks to you. If you 
hadn’t renewed that lease it would have been quite 
different. Whatever gave you the idea to do that? ” 

“ Old Lanier snooping around here. It was plain 


The Mushroom Ball 


201 


what he was after. Your father and I figured it 
all out and beat him to it — that’s all.” 

Just then Blanchard came up. 

“Well, Kelly, how about it? Does my offer of 
the afternoon go?” he inquired. 

“ It sure does,” Marty answered without hesita- 
tion, “provided my business adviser approves”; 
he turned to Hen. “ Mr. Blanchard has suggested 
taking over the mine and growing mushrooms on a 
large scale, with jobs for both dad and me.” 

“ You’d be foolish to let a chance like that slip, 
old man,” Hen said. 

“ Perhaps there’d be something for you too, El- 
liott,” Mr. Blanchard went on. “ Would you like 
that? I wouldn’t mind having a salesman with 
your qualifications.” 

“ But I go back to school in September.” 

“That’s all right; Kelly, here, is going back to 
school too; but you can make your spare time 
count — ” 

“ All right. I’m in for anything like that. 
When do I begin? ” 

Blanchard laughed. “ Not so fast. You’re 
rushing me. But I’ll put you down on the list of in- 
tended employees.” 

Marty slipped away to one end of the tunnel 
where he knew his father and mother were sitting 
watching the dancers. He told them the good news. 


202 


Marty Lends a Hand 

“ And just think, dad, it means a job for you — 
with more money than you used to make at the fac- 
tory and a little income for me, too. Things will 
be easier, and I can go back to school. Isn’t it won- 
derful?” 

“ It is, son — wonderful! ” Mrs. Kelly answered. 
“We’re so proud of you!” His mother’s hand 
rested lovingly on his arm. 

Marty looked embarrassed at this praise — but 
happy. 

“ Oh, this next dance is Wilda’s — and — mine,” 
he said suddenly and was off. 

A few moments later his father and mother saw 
him come into view with Wilda. Their eyes fol- 
lowed him. 

“ He’s a good boy,” Mrs. Kelly said softly. 

“ He’s a regular boy,” Mr. Kelly added. 

“ And so you’re coming back to school, Marty,” 
the father and mother heard Wilda say as the couple 
went by, and Marty’s quick, eager rejoinder, “ Yes.” 
“ I’m so glad,” came Wilda’s voice again, and then 
something about the junior play and the junior 
prom. The actual words were lost to the parents’ 
ears in the babel of talk and the sound of the music, 
but their significance was not. 

Mr. Kelly looked at Mrs. Kelly, a world of mean- 
ing in his glance. 

“ A regular boy,” he repeated, nodding proudly. 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
















ft 




























































































































' ' .'if '.' 




























































































# 


i a 











/• 




* 




i 


% 




V 



















« 




/ 






















